Of Swans and Apple Trees
by author010101
Summary: She's trying to take her place in the sky while her feet are firmly planted on the ground. She's made of mismatched parts that are always on the verge of breaking. But, as long as she can keep them healthy, she's content with suffering in silence.
1. Apollonia Eevastiina Manner

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

* * *

_This is an OC-centric fic that delves into the complexity of relationships, the definition of beauty, and how people overcome obstacles both physically and mentally. The OC is foreign born (not-Japanese) and will face many cultural stigmas in her stay. Please note that I am neither Japanese or Finnish, and my studies on both do have their limits, so my apologies if I have misguided information regarding either culture. Please inform me and I will fix my error._

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**_Chapter 1: Apollonia Eevastiina Manner_**

* * *

_One Year Before the Storyline_

* * *

In the halls of Karasuno High School, Daichi and Sugawara stood by their respective shoe lockers and slipped into their school slip-one, not really eavesdropping but unable to ignore the current talk going around.

"Did you hear, we're getting an exchange student!"

Sugawara's eyebrows twitched in interest, leaning back to the group of students behind him to better hear.

"Really? Are they from America? That'd be cool if we got an American here in Miyagi. Tokyo gets all the tourists."

"Man, I hope it's a girl, a really cute one. Like those pretty blonde girls with long hair. I could show her around town and take her to an amusement park!"

Sugawara glanced at Daichi to find him rolling his eyes in a mundane manner. He couldn't help but chuckle along.

"I want to learn more about American culture. I bet they'd have it easy in English classes. I've heard that they don't have to go to school on Saturdays, and their public schools don't require uniforms!"

"Maa, I wonder when they will be arriving."

"Well, we'll be able to spot them a mile away, just look for the white girl."

"Shh, don't say it like it's a bad thing, what if they hear you?!"

Sugawara and Daichi exchanged glances as they strolled towards their class, subconsciously partaking in the flurry of gossip around them without actually speaking. One of their former classmates waved them over. "Have you guys heard about the American? Man, to come to Miyagi of all places. She must be really pretty if literally the whole school is on edge."

Daichi sighed, "I'm hoping that it's a guy, and I hope he's really good at volleyball."

"Don't get so down, Daichi, we'll be alright this year. We just need to keep fighting is all, whether we have the foreign exchange student or not," Sugawara assured.

"Are you saying you're not interested in the American, Sugawara?"

"I'm interested in the foreign exchange student, just like everyone else," Sugawara hummed, "But they would probably prefer not to be stared at like a zoo animal. That's intimidating for a new person."

"Ah, you have a point."

Daichi raised an eyebrow, "So you're saying, that if it was a pretty girl, you wouldn't even spare a second look?"

Sugawara scoffed, giving a contorted expression that didn't even merit an explanation.

"It doesn't matter if she's from another country, how different could she be?"

* * *

Sugawara sat frozen in his chair with a grip on his jaw so firm it threatened to bruise. He probably should have seen it coming, in all honestly, and yet he didn't exactly expect to have the American standing right in front of him, in _his_ classroom. It was not entirely difficult to distinguish her from them: her eyes were a bit wider with a shape that contrasted their own, her nose sharper and turned up, her face bonier, the hue of her skin more pink and powdered than their own.

She seemed to acknowledge their cognizance of her foreign face, and immediately went on the defense by wearing a tepid frown.

"Hello, my name is Apollonia Eevastiina Manner. I was born in Kalajoki, Finland, but I recently moved here from California. I hope that I share a delightful school year with you all."

Her voice was rigid, as if she were reading from a poorly written script in a flat line tone that would make even the dowdiest professors doze off. She didn't seem to be aware of her own monotone, instead just nodding her head as the teacher welcomed her to Japan.

The students however:

"… I thought Americans were more lively than this," a classmate commented quietly behind a cupped hand. The student next to him nodded his head.

"... And bigger. I mean, like around," the student made a crude gesture towards his chest while finishing, "I thought American's had more meat."

"Well, you heard her, she's not American, she's from Finland. They probably look different there."

The student wore an expression that was a bit too disheartened for his own good.

"Maa, that's no fun. Send her back, then."

Sugawara glanced around, perturbed that they were making such a fuss about her appearance. It wasn't as if it was such a big deal, the way she looked. Sure she was irrationally tall, and had an unfortunately flat chest, and her face was more handsome than it was pretty, and even though it seemed that she had the emotional vibrancy of old paint, and her hair was short and cropped like some forest fairy and was _ghastly _white like an old man's, and also—

Alright, maybe he was just as guilty for scrutinizing her—Apollo, Apple, Apollonia was her name?—in such a rude manner as everyone else had, when he so proudly resolved to treat her like the normal human being that she was. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea about Japan after all and assume that they were all just interested in foreigners who looked like pretty, yellow-haired dolls with healthy, bouncing breasts—all of which Apollonia did not have.

On the bright side, she had a very feminine voice, which offset her lack of assets. He could at least feel contented with himself for noting her positive characteristics such as her voice. While he couldn't exactly think of anything else at the time, he was sure that if he befriended her, he would definitely find other positive aspects about her more than just the obvious on the surface.

She was ushered to a seat far at the other end of the classroom, sitting with half of her face in the morning sun. Her pale hair and even paler skin lit up like a lantern in broad daylight, washing out most of her natural color like bleach. She was half leaned over on the desk, her forearms propping her up in an attentive posture as the teacher continued on with their lesson plans while passing out papers.

The students around her seemed to be fixated on her foreign appearance—probably not expecting something as far north as a woman from _Finland_ of all places, especially considering they were probably expecting a rounded, quirky American. It was a decent amount of mileage to travel from North to West to way Far East, which begged the question: what sort of reasons did she bear to jump from country to country—from _continent_ to _continent_?

It was fascinating for sure, which was probably why those who had not altogether disregarded her sat erect in their seat, following her every movement: when she would switch ankles while crossing her legs, when she would scratch her cheek with her index finger, when her brow would suddenly furrow as she tried to decipher an excessively complex piece of writing.

She had become a novelty, plain and simple for those who were not hung up on the preconceived notion of her being a buxom, bubbly, beautiful foreigner. Apollonia, however, seemed detached from their fascination, and looked to be more intrigued in the scenery outside than in her classmates around her.

Sugawara could not help but glance to the side every so often, catching her profile as she stared forwards with her pen resting quietly in her left hand. He felt his eyebrow rise slightly: she was left-handed? Well than was another positive quirk he could add on with her voice. Sugawara inwardly high-fived himself for making such great process in so little time.

Unfortunately, Sugawara's inwardly celebration had somehow manifested outside of his body: apparently he had pumped his fist while chirping, '_Yosh_!' during the middle of class.

His movements frozen in time, he looked around to see that all of his classmates, including his teacher had turned their attention onto him. He could feel his face warm a thousand shades of red, and slowly lowered his arm until it sat ashamedly in his lap, his shoulders scrunched as he tried to curl within himself to escape the horrid first impression he had made upon the new school year.

What made matters worse, was that he was foolish enough to turn his head to the side in Apollonia's direction, and found that her neck was high and stretched in response to his sudden outburst, her eyes wide in astonishment at his actions. Good God, she probably thought all Japanese boys were strange due to his outlandish behavior—he probably just sullied every image she had of their kind, and would no doubt go to the fullest extent to avoid him, as if he bore some foreign disease or something.

On a lighter note, when his stare met her, he had noticed for the first time just how sharp her calcite eyes really were.

* * *

He fished out his bento, heading back to the homeroom after a quick bathroom break so that he would be able to eat his lunch—and hopefully forget about his little scene he had made that morning.

Much to his misfortune, he found Apollonia alone, sittingin her chair with an uncharacteristically bemused expression. Few students sat somewhat near her; close enough to touch, though no one was brave enough to make a move. Not that Sugawara was surprised, after all, she was rather intimidating, and as she sat longer in the basking light, she looked like a living ghost, or something almost as romantic.

With resolve, Sugawara braced himself and took the long road of marching up towards her desk, his face slowly twisting with hesitation and his palms sweating feverishly after each and every step. From a distance he could tell that she was tall, he was just not aware just how alarmingly tall she was. It was like she was a little bean sprout growing right before his very eyes. Even her lanky arms looked to house more then they were willing to show. As crazy as it sounded in Sugawara's head, she looked sturdy. Of course he'd never say such a thing to her face in fear of the consequences: Western girls got upset by those sorts of comments too, didn't they? At any rate, it was a quiet strength, whatever she had. Something elegant and demure, but definitely not to be trifled with.

He swallowed the boulder of doubt lodged in his throat and bowed—gracelessly knocking his head into her desk. He snapped back up and held his forehead, looking at her from under his hands as a familiar pink took his skin. Her eyes were wide with astonishment once again, though a sort of apologetic hue mixed with her stoic expression, as if she felt bad for his unfortunate existence.

"Are you alright? You seem to be very clumsy," she deadpanned.

Sugawara laughed a little more forcefully than he should have, holding out his hand as if to say, _'No! I'm all right, I swear! And I'm really a normal, coordinated person, honest!'_ He lowered his arm back to his side and revealed the bit of bruise forming on his forehead, smiling weakly as he bowed with a little more skill.

"U-uh, hello, my name is Sugawara Koushi. Welcome to Karasuno! If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask!"

Feeling flustered, he turned sharply to walk back towards his own desk, but was taken off guard when he heard her speak up—not that her volume was anything to take notice of.

"Do you have food courts here, or vending machines? I don't really know how lunch periods work here in Japan, so I didn't really bring anything today."

Sugawara was shell-shocked that she was actually asking _him_ of all people for help, especially considering his stupidity that fate had unfortunately decided to unearth from him that morning. Still, with a grin, he fluffed up his feathers and held out his hand to her.

"We have vending machines here, I can take you to them if you like!"

* * *

It would have been a lie to say that Sugawara did not feel uncomfortable walking down the halls with Apollonia at his side, the woman unfortunately surpassing him by a fair number of centimeters.

He noted that she seemed to not be vulgar in terms of speech like he heard foreigners were, and wore her skirt modestly at her knee. As well, despite the mild day, she seemed contented in wearing her shirt completely buttoned up to the top, even with her blazer closed and secured over the long, sinewy frame. Much to his amusement, her arms didn't seem to be entirely covered, or else she was just content in rolling up her sleeves like a farmer taking on the fields. They walked in silence for a while until Sugawara forced a cough just to hear something other than their footsteps. He didn't want to make her feel awkward after all, even though Apollonia would have been more than content not speaking.

"So… what brings you to the East, Apollonia-san?" Realizing his faux pas, he quickly held up his hands in defense. "Is it alright that I call you Apollonia-san, or would you prefer Manner-san?"

She looked at him, beguiled, as if she didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

"Uh…" Sugawara started, finding the words on how to explain the concept of honorifics to the foreigner in a way that she would likely understand. "Manner-san would be most respectful, since it's your last name. That way I'm not presumptuous about our relationship."

"Relationship," she inquired.

Sugawara's hands immediately snapped up in defense.

"Saa-aaa, I mean! Well, your closest friends should call you Apollonia-san, or even Apollonia-chan! It was rude for me to be so bold, please forgive me, Manner-san!"

Apollonia looked down at Sugawara, who had his hands folded in prayer to ask for her forgiveness, looking up at her with pitiful brown eyes. Hers were unblinking, mouth straight, but it was not in a coarse fashion. In fact, she looked amused.

Sugawara Koushi was ordinarily a charismatic and composed individual, and yet this woman had the talent of taking that all away from him. How scary.

"Apollonia," she finally said. "You can just call me Apollonia. I do not care for those additives."

The setter forced his skin to remain a healthy color as he tried to explain that using her name without any suffixes was meant for only informal occasions, but settled with a compromise.

"Apollonia-chan," he said brightly, "Here we are!" Sugawara extended his arms to the multitude of vending machines before them, filled with all sorts of snacks and lunches per her preference, along with several beverage machines.

Sadly, she seemed to be overwhelmed by the display and cocked an eyebrow at the choices before her. The colors decorating the packages where bright and almost gaudy—assumedly to appeal to the fast-living teenage lifestyle—but the foreign characters that wrapped around the cans and packages did nothing more than mystify poor, Finnish Apollonia.

She scanned each machine, growing more and more confused by the bizarre food products the Japanese had. "I didn't know that cakes could be made to look like fish. Is that not unappetizing for you?"

Sugawara tried not to laugh, but found his chuckled only partially stifled as he looked slightly up at her. She was fixated on the machines as if they had unplugged themselves from the wall and were dancing right in front of her. He had to admit, she was far less intimidating when she was making a mountain out of a molehill with something as simple as lunchtime snacks, the uncharacteristic look on her face almost twisted enough to be humorous.

"Why not milk, that's pretty popular here," he offered.

"I do not consume many dairy products," she retorted. Sugawara cringed at the metallic edge in her voice. He didn't bother correcting Apollonia that most, if not all, people drank soy milk, and pushed himself a little further.

"There are coffee machines," he tried.

A flicker of intrigue crossed her eyes, which immediately set Sugawara at ease. He pulled out his wallet and entered a fair about of coins into the beverage machine, and stood back for Apollonia to choose.

"First one's on me," Sugawara said brightly. The look of shock on the Finn's face could not be adequately described, though it did taken her a while to shake herself from her thoughts as she pressed the button that bore the numbers for the can of strict black coffee, watching as the little can protruded from the holder at her knees. She leaned down and lifted the can, inspecting it as if it were an exotic bug or precious stone. Hesitantly she snapped the top open, sniffing it before slowly bringing it to her mouth.

Swallowing down the coffee, Apollonia held out the can to look at it once more.

"Fascinating," she mused. She turned to Sugawara, who had entered a few more coins and had picked out a small juice box for himself. "Thank you," she said, though paused as if she were not finished. Her face had tightened with something he could not identify, though she finally expressed her thoughts as she asked, "Am I obliged to bow to you after I thank you? Is that custom here?"

Sugawara chuckled nervously, "N-no, you really don't have to. Your 'thank you' was more than enough."

Still, Apollonia wanted to be as respectful as possible, especially being in the presence of a foreigner with customs far different from her own. She held to can's neck steady and bowed gratefully, sweeping back up to meet his eyes.

She did not speak another word, yet the gratitude refracting through her calcite was more than enough. Sugawara nodded and began walking back to their homeroom, silently motioning her to follow him as they both sipped on their respective drinks.

* * *

_Day Two._

* * *

He was not entirely prepared for what happened the next day. As surprising as it was, it was a little embarrassing too, especially considering that he really did nothing but pay for a stupid little can of black coffee for her.

But when he came into his class that morning, luckily before any of the other students managed to infiltrate the premises, he found an off little gift on his desk.

It was a juice box, the same flavor as the one he bought a day before when showing Apollonia all of their vending machines. Oddly enough, said Finn seemed to be absent from the room, yet a free, unmarked juice box the same exact flavor as yesterday sat upon his desk. When he picked it up, a small folded piece of paper was lodged under the carton. He opened it up, finding that it was a thank you note with very hesitant strokes painting words too formal for a native Japanese person to use. Compared to the feminine penmanship of his classmates it was absolutely horrible in form, though he wasn't entirely surprised. It was possibly Apollonia's first year writing freeform Japanese rather than practicing it in special notebooks and worksheets. Signed at the bottom was none other than the extravagant name of '_Apollonia Eevastiina Manner_,' written with a little more confidence. Her grammar was adequate, although it was clear that whatever Japanese linguistics training she had received before coming to their country was very strict, using a written vernacular that was not all that common for people their age. Especially not in Miyagi.

Still, it was enough to widen the grin on his face.

So, not only was she sentimental, but she was polite as well, yet another quirk of the Finn that Sugawara could mentally document. He tucked the juice away in his bag before glancing at the note once more, tracing each line of her writing as if her could feel her shaking hand as she tried to sound eloquent in a language that she was not familiar with. He chuckled.

"Evah-steen-ah? Ha, foreigners have such cool names."

* * *

"Suga-san, you are so lucky!"

The overbearing volume of Tanaka was enough to earn a stern glare from Daichi, though he quickly returned his attention to a flushed Sugawara.

"So, you managed to befriend the foreign exchange student… or _something_ of the sort," he chuckled. The setter—keen on his captain's innuendo—whipped his hands and crossed them in an exaggerated, '_x_' formation.

"It's not like that! It must just be a custom or something in Finland. She was just being nice."

"Suga-san, you are such a hero," Tanaka exclaimed. "The foreigner likes you!"

"So, what is she like," Daichi inquired.

"Does she kiss as a greeting like those other Europeans?"

Sugawara—with his hands still held up in defense—shook his head and let his mouth habitually spread into an uneasy smile.

"She's very nice, but I swear, I don't know anything about her. And no, Tanaka, she doesn't."

"Does she play volleyball?" Of course Daichi would ask such a question. "The girl's volleyball club is looking for more recruits. If she's half decent, they'd probably love her," he elaborated. Still, Sugawara just shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Eh… I don't know anything about her, and I don't really know how to go about talking to her. I already told her if she had any questions that she could come to me for help."

His two friends nodded sagely as they watched their timid setter slowly unravel, though honestly he had nothing to worry about.

It was only the second day.

* * *

"Mr. Sugawara?"

It was the second day and she actually—willingly—had called out to him, and was making an effort to _talk_ to him on her own accord!

Sure, her manner of approach was European—which ultimately brought a frightful flush to his face as he tried to explain to her that, 'Sugawara-kun' or even 'Koushi-san,' would have sufficed, but earned a rather bleak expression that he had already seen before. It was a solid minute that Sugawara tried to explain the purpose of honorifics and how they could be properly used with his name to avoid embarrassing situations such as questions regarding their relationship. But somehow, Apollonia did not seem to think anything wrong with calling him, 'Koushi,' unadorned, without any decorum. She also didn't seem to be fazed by his nervous sweating, blushing, strained face as he tried to shake off the fact that it was _only the second day_, and the one-hundred eighty centimeter beanstalk foreign exchange student was actually calling him by his first name with a straight face as if they were life long friends, or-or even…

"Koushi?"

"Uh, yes, Apollonia-chan?"

"Do you know where the track is?"

"Yes, you just kind of," he pointed past the east wall, gesturing a vague sort of way—which only caused her to become even more bewildered, "and you just take a," Sugawara tried to point the multitude of turns she would have to take, but ultimately found himself tripping over his own tangled words.

"Eh," he laughed, "I'll just take you there."

They walked again in silence, side by side, and all at once, the overpowering sensation of déjà vu came over him. Though this time around, there lack of conversation was overall comfortable: there was something calm about her willingness to let her shoes speak as she strolled, and the way that despite her aloof sort of demeanor was perceived, she was actually sharply aware of the smallest details, such as the movement of leaves along the ground where they walked, or the students in the distance.

Still, he felt a sort of compulsion to at least say something to her.

"Were you thinking about joining the track club, Apollonia-chan?"

She turned to him, as if she were somewhat surprised about his inquiry.

"No."

Sugawara chuckled uncomfortably at Apollonia's straightforwardness and made to just brush the subject off; but to his surprise, Apollonia was not finished talking.

"I have joint and muscle problems. Long term repetition only aggravates it."

There was a certain forced quality about the way that she was speaking, as if she were grasping for the proper vocabulary that she probably found from a, 'Finnish to Japanese translator,' if such a thing existed. That, or she just felt unbearably uncomfortable talking to him for such an extended period of time. Maybe it was just a Finnish thing.

"So, you like running then?"

Though she seemed taken back that he was actually pursuing a conversation with her, she replied. "I have tried many forms of athletics."

The little Daichi figure fluttering in his head beamed at that statement, grinning with inner musings of, '_Ah, this could be promising_.'

"Are you a fan of volleyball then?"

Apollonia nodded lightly. "I grew up playing beach volleyball. In America I found many college players around the beach and I was invited to serve for a while."

"As a first year," Sugawara stressed with incredulity.

"I was one hundred and eighty centimeters by the time I finished middle school," Apollonia said, her voice slightly marred by ire. Sugawara seemed awestruck by this fact, but accepted it nonetheless. After all, he was conversing with a towering Finnish female who looked more like a knight meant to be rescuing fair-haired princesses from towers and dragons rather than a second year wasting her time talking to a timid setterlike himself. Anything was possible at this point.

"I travel, a lot," she said, almost awkwardly.

Sugawara slowly nodded, as if he actually comprehended what she was trying to explain.

"Where have you traveled so far?"

"I lived in America for almost a year. I've been to other countries, but it's usually just weekend trips." She made a broad sweep along the ground, before turning her attention on Sugawara. For a moment he swore that she looked embarrassed for speaking as much as she was. "I'd like to learn more about Japan."

"Then, how come you aren't looking at the Kendo Club, or Calligraphy? Would that be more suitable for you?"

"I'm not interested in joining any clubs. I just wanted to know where the track was."

Well, that was sort of disheartening. So, she wasn't interested in any clubs, regardless of the sport, she just wanted a place to run. Still, if she were no held down by the troublesome duties of club activities, perhaps…

"If you're up to it, you should come by and see my friends and I play. We're part of the volleyball club," he hinted with a small grin. "We'd love to see how your experience in beach volleyball translates to our indoor court. Maybe you could teach us hand signals or sand exercises."

In all honesty, the setter was curious: beach players were notorious for jumping higher, darting quicker, and being a better-rounded player in general. In beach volleyball it was just two on two with a lighter ball and a surface of silken sand, drastically different than the cold court and hard ground of indoor: surely she possessed a little something worth watching if she played with college students on the beaches of California.

To his relief, Apollonia didn't seem opposed to the idea; she even openly went as far as asking, "Where are the volleyball courts?"

Sugawara grinned.

However, before he could open his mouth, grab her hand and race her to the courts to introduce her to Daichi and Tanaka, a small, tinkling noise of flutes and bells resonated from Apollonia's bag. She whipped out a small—though very stylish—silver phone, holding it back to properly see the title flashing across the front before swiping her finger across the screen to silence the device, turning it off with a small click at its base.

"Sorry, I have to go. Would you mind showing me tomorrow?"

Sugawara nodded and beamed, nodding his head as she turned to retreat the opposite direction.

"See you tomorrow, Apollonia-chan!"

She paused, head swiveling slowly as her eyes met his.

"See you tomorrow."


	2. Apple-Senpai

**_Disclaimer_**: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

_Thank you for your reviews, everyone, I am very grateful for them!_

* * *

**_Chapter 2: Apple-Senpai_**

* * *

_Two Years Before Storyline_

_Montara State Beach, California_

* * *

California was hot, unbearably so. Finland didn't dare reach temperatures that the West Coast had, even at its worst. Barely a year in America and Apollonia had suffered many cases of heat exhaustion. She walked the beach on a semi-overcast day, sparsely populated, but taking on more drifters as the sun filtered through the clouds. She thought she would have blended in wearing a nondescript sports bra and accompanying spandex shorts, but seeing other natives wearing far less clothing in inexplicably brighter colors, she felt that she stood out even more by not standing out at all. Under normal circumstances, Apollonia would have been covered head to toe, but seeing as wearing even a cotton tee shirt would put her at risk for exhaustion again, she bit the bullet and stripped down.

Her schooling was finished with, seeing as she was able to test out of her chosen subjects so that she'd be able to take Japan's entrance exams and be off for East Asia in time for school to start. She might miss the entrance ceremony and the start of the term, but it was the price she paid for jumping between two completely different educational systems.

She settled her shoes along a hard patch of sand close by the water, and looked down at her intangible watch before setting off in a slow run.

Sand was not scarce is Kalajoki where she originated. In fact, Kalajoki was more known for their sand dunes, and became a tourist attraction for all those who enjoyed beachside activities, both in and out of water. Despite spending her childhood in the small town, Apollonia was detached from the tourism industry, as well as the forestry and agriculture industries that helped define their means of production. In contrast, her parents worked far from Kalajoki itself, keeping the town more of a getaway, so that their work and home lives were as separate as could be.

At any rate, the sand helped a young and skinny Apollonia build up tolerance for the terrain, despite her obvious disdain for running. She hopped over a few slabs of driftwood and found herself in a more populated section with what she assumed were college students putting up nets, zipping up bodysuits, cracking coolers and laying down bare chested in what little sun shone. She tried to dig her feet in and pick up pace, but Apollonia should have known not to delude herself.

They called out to her, a smaller tribe of students: tan to the bone with raccoon marks around their eyes, sunglasses perched atop their tied and waxed hair. '_Amazon! Amazon!_' Apollonia was the only person fitting their description of height, as well the only one wearing more than dental floss in the area, so she angled her head and slowed to a walk, curving her path towards them. They wore identical cover-ups over their fluorescent bathing suits, what Apollonia guessed was their college mascot. '_Fear the Tree_,' is what it read, much to Apollonia's intrigue. Where American trees so dangerous that they could be the mascot of a University?

One of the women questioned if she was from, 'USC,' whatever that meant. Apollonia shook her head, and again when they listed off what Apollonia assumed were different areas throughout California. But, when she refuted all of their suggested cities: Anaheim, Burbank, Los Angeles, one of the men joked that she must have been from Mars. Apollonia couldn't even imagine living on a planet so hot, California was bad as it was.

They were shorthanded and in need of a someone to help with their volleyball practice. When Apollonia refuted, they backtracked and claimed they really only needed a server for jump practice, seeing as most of their colleagues were too busy spreading coconut oil over their skin. Again, Apollonia tried to remove herself from the situation by taking a look at her watch-less wrist. The woman who first spoke to Apollonia—the women's volleyball captain, apparently—smacked her cohorts upside the arm, claiming that if she didn't want to participate, she didn't have to. She apologized and explained that they sought out Apollonia for her height and automatically assumed she played volleyball. '_She looked like a skinny Britt Hochevar from a distance_,' one of the men tried to defend.

Conversation came so easily to them, that Apollonia was unsure if she was supposed to feel amazed or perplexed by the fluidity of their exchange. Americans were so peculiar in that they could grip onto meaningless topics so easily and talk about literally anything for hours on end. The two began to bicker in a passive manner, until the man who had mistaken her was forced to apologize. Apollonia took his apology expressionlessly, and scratched her sandy shoe against the back of her ankle. They didn't seem like unsavory people—despite their garish swimwear and unintelligible California code—and the rest of their team did look more taken in sunbathing than they did assisting their own classmates. The women's captain was spraying sunscreen on her arm while the men finished attaching the net to the posts.

Apollonia took in a deep, quiet breath, before expelling it. She slipped her sneakers off her feet, socks neatly folded inside, and placed them in the shade along with all of the players' sliders. A petite and overly perfumed woman holding a clipboard and whistle looked up at her and flipped through a few pages of statistics in her accompanying journal. She clicked her tongue and gave an odd wink to Apollonia, as if she had immediately been initiated into their little cult of highlighter pink bikini tops and unapologetically dark tan lines. At the time, Apollonia was too puzzled to be flattered.

She hesitantly took the ball from one of the taller players and took place behind the serving line, much to their surprise. One of them called for her name, to which she followed with a quiet, '_Apollonia_.'

"I don't know if I've seen an Apollo on any rosters, have you," one of the men asked. The women's captain slapped his arm again, snapping, '_Shut up, she's about to serve._'

Apollonia took a small step backwards before tossing the ball high, following through with a three-step approach that was surprisingly smooth despite performing it on sand. For someone so thin, her jump was strong and skillfully executed. Her wrist whipped for a topspin that was a challenge for the outdoors, one that usually was whisked away by slight winds. But it fell in between the two back players with force they did not expect from her. Sand scattered over their feet like debris as they both stared at the crater that had been dig in between them. '_Skinny Britt Hoch, my ass_,' one of them barked. '_She's the second coming of Walsh!_' The other did not refute.

She received a flurry of praise from the college players much to her embarrassment. Apollonia had never been one for compliments: she felt unworthy of praises, even though the colloquialisms the natives were using didn't sound much like praise at all. What was, '_Hella Beast_,' supposed to mean, anyway?

The women's captain asked her if she would be staying any longer, implying that they would love to see her stretch her arms to their entirety and actually indulge in a game with them. But, Apollonia only had a few days left in her schedule before she completed her entrance exams and set off for Asia. Their reactions weren't exactly disappointed, but they weren't exactly happy to see her leave either. Apparently, her hit had a little less twist than their normal servers, and could use the stability on the sand. They told her that with time she could become a monster whether indoors or out. Apollonia didn't follow with an answer—mostly, because communicating with them in broken English wasn't the easiest thing to do, especially since Apollonia doubted Californians even spoke real English at all—but as well, she was not looking to be a title on a trophy. She nodded wordlessly and went on her way, grabbing her shoes. To her relief, they didn't seem to notice the pained twitch in her knee, or the hard rub she gave her shoulder. She probably shouldn't have gone very hard on the very first serve.

They didn't let her get very far before they held out a small mound of clothing to her. A small sweatshirt with their famed, '_Fear the Tree_,' across the front, and spandex with their school's monogram stamped on the side. '_Tear it up in Japan, Apollo_,' they told her, with a vague gesture of their hand. Apollonia's brow furrowed, she couldn't imagine ripping up clothes—was that another American tradition? She shook off the notion and continued down the beach back towards her hotel, sweatshirt and shorts tucked under her arm.

"Too bad she's not staying in America," one of the men started once she was out of earshot, "That girl would be a bad-ass pinch server. Definite Cardinal material."

With his statement, he received a bony elbow to the ribs from the girl's captain. "She's not a Cardinal."

Her teammates turned to gawk at her, staring at the pensive expression that had taken her leathery face.

"Did you see that wingspan," she challenged, gesturing with her arms just how wide Apollonia's arms could stretch, "those aren't the wings of a little bird like a Cardinal. If she can serve like that, imagine how well she could _block_. You wouldn't even need another blocker at the net if her footwork is any good!"

They looked on at Apollonia's retreating back: long and pale, boasting muscle too well-trained and sinewy to belong to a bird so menial, so common. As much as she tried to disappear in the crowds towards somewhere quiet, alone, she stuck out with her height and the mop of white on her head. In what little sunlight was left it could have been alabaster, if such colors existed beyond poetics. It was astounding that such underdeveloped shoulders such as hers could keep arms capable of so much power in check. A little bit of professional training and that arm could become more than just a novelty, her potential more than just an unlocked skill. She had a fair build and unseemly strength, impressive even to people years above her.

No, it seemed foolish that an untapped power and grace like hers could belong to a bird so small.

* * *

_Karasuno, One Year Before Storyline_

_"Apple-Senpai."_

* * *

"Good morning, Apollonia-chan."

She was reading, and did not even look up as he approached, so after standing next to her long enough for his classmates to start snickering, he tried to speak. Yet, when his voice finally penetrated her ears, she flinched, her eyes widening as if he had appeared from thin air as her attention turned towards him. She shook the look of surprise off her face and set her book down on her desk before standing up and offering Sagawara a deep bow.

The setter chuckled nervously and took a slight step back; trying to salvage whatever words he had prepared to say to Apollonia before she had gone and left him speechless. He shook his head and hands, assuring her that a simple good morning would suffice, and she did not have to bow so low that her head could probably touch her knees—because doing so would just embarrass Sugawara, and root an entire rumor mill regarding the nature of their relationship. Which, upon hearing the rising volume of his classmate's tittering behind him; it became apparent that his nightmare was quickly becoming a reality.

"Really, Apollonia-chan, 'Good Morning' will work just fine," he said for the third time in response to her perplexed expression.

"Good morning, Koushi."

Sugawara flinched and let out a strained grunt as the titters exploded into full-blown laughter, his face quickly igniting a furious pink. Trying to will himself back to the topic he had intended to discuss with Apollonia, Sugawara cleared his throat and grinned.

"Did you bring your volleyball gear?"

Her mouth thinned into what he assumed to be a forced, 'grin'—a gesture he guessed was intended to appease his extraordinarily chipper disposition—and nodded her head.

"I did. We will meet after school like yesterday?"

The manner of her speaking made it clear to the setter that Apollonia was trying to push herself away from her habitual one word responses, and make an effort to actually converse with the students at Karasuno. In a way, it made Sugawara's smile widen: she was trying to do her best to feel comfortable, even if she was making a fool out of both of them.

"Definitely. We can get changed and then I'll show you the courts."

He made one last grin and nodded his head before turning to leave; but oh, how fate loved to toy with him.

"Koushi?"

Sugawara furiously ignored the onslaught of chuckles assaulting his ears from those around him and turned back around.

"Yes, Apollonia-chan?"

She was still standing, though leaning onto the book atop her desk as it such a tiny pamphlet would offer her support, her face suddenly unsure and tense.

"May I partake in lunch with you, again?"

The mere fact that she said, 'May I,' as well as, 'partake' was enough to fluster Sugawara, but due to the fact that she was requesting his companionship, and willingly talking to him for the third day in a row, it was a wonder that the setter was even able to stand. Noting that his face was turning conflicting shades of blue and red from holding his breath, Sugawara took in a sharp wind.

"O-of course," he finally said with a wavering tone.

She nodded, offering him another tense-mouth smile before she turned and sat in her seat, returning to her reading.

Sugawara took his place across the room at his own desk, before slumping down in his seat with a small huff, as if the road back to his desk had never before felt so long.

* * *

_After School_

* * *

"Hey, mister."

Apollonia stopped in her tracks.

She was on her way to the volleyball courts once she regrouped with Sugawara; but when the brusque sound of a male's voice had announced itself behind her, her athletic shoes had skidded against the concrete walkaway until her footsteps turned into stumbles until they finally ceased completely.

She turned around, though was a bit surprised that she had to look down at about a ninety degree angle to meet the person who had called out to her.

He was a puny thing in every sense of the word: little shoulders, thin legs, arms comparable to toothpicks, but a full childish face and hair that looked like it had been blown back by a jet engine. He looked up at her as if trying to gaze upon the top of a tree.

"Are you going to the volleyball courts?"

He gestured to her athletic regalia: the students of Stanford had been kind enough to pack up a complimentary sweatshirt and pair of spandex shorts with the university's logo displayed on the side before Apollonia had left California. And needless to say, it was her outfit of choice when indulging in volleyball. She accented the uniform with her own form of injury protection: thigh high compression stockings, knee-pads, elbow pads, and bandages on her right arm that wrapped all the way up to her bicep.

The boy himself was dressed haphazardly in athletic gear of his own: personalized with what Apollonia assumed to be a flamboyant Japanese phrase or something of the sort on the shirt, and black pads that engulfed his tiny little kneecaps.

Apollonia just stared at him.

He was so… small, like a little bird, barely big enough to fit in the palm of her hand.

It was… _endearing_.

Apollonia could feel her famous stoicism fading quickly, immediately tensing up in effort to keep the color of her skin the hue it had always been, her mouth turning into a straight rigid line.

"Yes," she finally responded.

Much to the misfortune of her pitter-pattering heart, the unbearably short boy beamed like a star-powered lighthouse, tucking his fists into his pockets and jumping to her side.

"Good, that's the place I'm looking for! I'll join you, Shiro-kun!"

Apollonia had meant to inform him that she herself—was not only a woman, and her name was not '_White_,' despite her flamboyantly Finnish genetics wreaking havoc on her hair color—did not know where the volleyball courts were herself, and that she was looking for a certain taupe-topped second year to lead the way.

"Apollonia-chan!"

Speak of the devil.

"Ah, Koushi."

Apollonia turned towards the approaching second year, who looked the least out of place wearing an authentic Karasuno volleyball uniform and jacket. The boy beside Apollonia was absolutely fawning over seeing a real life Karasuno uniform merely centimeters from him. The stars in his eyes had exploded in a violent supernova, setting his sclera on fire as he bounded towards Sugawara.

"SENPAI," the first year yelled, bowing to the point that he almost threw himself on the ground. "I am first year Nishinoya Yuu! I swear to prove myself to you and the team!"

_Yuu?_

Apollonia sucked her lips back behind her teeth.

God, even his name was… _endearing_.

Sugawara laughed, scratching his temple as Nishinoya rose back to his feet—which greatly appeased the setter, considering he was one of the only volleyball rookies that he was taller than. He bowed slightly and looked down at the first year with expectancy.

"Nishinoya? You must be that sign up from Chidoriyama. We saw your match last year, your receives are quite advanced for your age."

Nishinoya took a step back, holding the fabric over his heart as if it would bust from his chest.

"Senpai, thank you," he cried with fists raised in gratitude, tears rolling down his face.

Sugawara laughed bashfully, placing his hand at the back of his head. "You can just call me Sugawara if you'd like," he offered. Nishinoya's eyes went wide, his smile growing even brighter.

"Right, Suga-san!"

Sugawara smiled, a little flustered and taken back that no one anymore seemed to use proper addressing etiquette, and turned his attention back to the dumbstruck Finn behind Nishinoya.

"Ready to go, Apollonia-chan?"

Apollonia nodded, though when she made to move, Nishinoya had spun around back to her, staring at her with an expression crossed between confusion and amazement. He stuck his neck out, circling around Apollonia like a young lion cub trying to size up a gazelle ten times his size.

"Your name is… _Apple_?"

Nishinoya puckered his lips and cupped his chin with his thumb and index finger.

"Apple… _Nee_-ah?"

Suguwara's eyes shot open, and prayed that his internal screaming of, '_NO_,' was not voiced out in the open.

Nishinoya tested the different sounds and pronunciations of Apollonia's strange, foreign name; as if he were taste each letter individually until it fit his own dialect.

"Ap-ple-Nee? Apple-Nee-chan? Apple-Nee-chan!" Nishinoya placed his fist into his open palm, saying her name—rather, nickname—with such enthusiasm as if he had just conquered the tallest mountains in Japan. Once the realization hit him of what exactly he was implying of Apollonia, he went oddly silent, fist still in hand.

Apollonia on the other hand, already inwardly battling herself, trying not to just run over and pick the boy up under his arms like a goddamned child, had gone positively red in the face, her eyes wide and trembling. She bit into the back of her hand and was leaning back, and looked to be quickly losing all feeling in her buckling legs.

"Apollonia-chan," Sugawara yelled, running behind her in effort to support her by grabbing onto her shoulders, steadying her back into a semi-normal standing position, though Apollonia had altogether gone slack, and was more of a limp noddle in Sugawara's grip. The setter cried out in distress as he tried to lift a woman fairly taller and heavier than himself back onto her feet, her head slung back over his shoulder, her arms useless as Sugawara tried to lace his own around her. It ended up looking like a crude wrestling position, and Apollonia showed no sign of consciousness as the red in her face only deepened.

Nishinoya just cocked his head at the bizarre display both of his elders were exhibiting.

"Hang in there, Apollonia-chan," Sugawara cried out.

Nishinoya stood there, a small humming going off in his head as he watched Sugawara bring Apollonia back to her feet, though he stood by dutifully as she held onto her knees for support, trying her best to hide her flushing face under her fringe.

Then it hit him.

"I see!"

Sugawara jolted in surprise, seeing Nishinoya with one hand on his hip while the other was pointed directly at a breathless Apollonia.

"Apple-senpai is a woman!"

* * *

A first year that looked like he stuck his little finger in an electrical socket was able to reduce a tall, stone-faced beanstalk like Apollonia to a pile of flustered, blushing mush.

The fact that such an event even happen still left Sugawara speechless. He glanced over to Apollonia in his peripheral: her high necked stature back in full force and her emotions as composed as ever as she strolled leisurely alongside him with long-legged strides. Nishinoya skipped behind them, humming as if the situation never even occurred, that or he was not the least bit affected that however long he spent conversing with Apollonia, he was under the impression that she was a man. Either way, he had firmly glued himself to the name, 'Apple,' when trying to gain her attention—which upon realizing that the consequences of his actions only manifested as Apollonia blushing and staring at him wide-eyed—he became quite fond of butchering the girl's title.

"Apple-san," he said again.

Apollonia did her best to hide the flattery she felt imparted by the pitifully small Nishinoya, though her scrunched mouth gave her away as she suppressed a powerful urge to grin like an idiot.

"Yes?"

"Where are you from, again?"

"Finland," she answered, her yodeling-sort of accent shining through as she stated the moniker of her homeland. "I used to live near the coast, by the ocean. Much like here."

"Co-o-o-o-ol," Nishinoya chirped, bringing his fists back up into an energized gesture.

"That must be where all those big, scary guys ride eagles and capture villages, right?"

The ever, deadpan specialist, Apollonia only arched her eyebrow. "Are you thinking of Vikings," she inquired, though received little more than a shrug from Nishinoya. He sped ahead of them and crouched down into what looked like an amateur imitation of a B-grade ninja stand in. He held his hands up, cupped and curled, with one leg lifted out in front of him. He made an odd noise in the back of his throat before kicking his other leg out from underneath him, punching the air and crying out with a loud, "HWAH!"

"Apple-san, since you're in Japan, you should learn ninjitsu!"

He haphazardly performed a few flips and roll, springing back up on both legs like a wind up toy, grunting and yelling with each punch and jab.

"I assume you will be the one teaching me," Apollonia questioned, though as straight-faced as ever. Nishinoya placed his hand on his hip and whipped his other by his forehead as if to say, 'Scouts Honor.'

"You can bet on it," he called, crouching back down into a predatory position.

They walked a little further, Sugawara patting Nishinoya's unruly tangled mane as they passed by, before returning to their uniform strides. Nishinoya took his place behind them, before being ushered by Sugawara to a stop in front of a nondescript sliding door. Nishinoya didn't even need the building's introduction as he bounced up the stepped, back whipping carelessly behind him. Sugawara nudged Apollonia's elbow and aimed a finger towards the gym.

"We're here," he said.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Welp, here's the second chapter, in which she gets to meet the lovable Nishinoya._

_** By the way: Brittany Hochevar is a volleyball player who played for Long Beach State and replaced Misty May as their setter. There was a period where she had short platinum hair, so from a distance Apollonia could have easily been mistaken for her. It's a compliment, Apollonia! As well the, 'Walsh,' one of the players is referring to is Kerri Walsh Jennings, who played for Stanford, and who's hits can travel up to 65mph. Hella scary._

_**Fun Fact**: the bird of Finland is the Great Whooper Swan, a large, strong bird who spans the widest range when migrating._

_Also, Stanford's mascot is the Cardinal, which was why they were comparing her to one in the first place._


	3. Roots

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

* * *

**_Chapter 3: Roots_**

* * *

_Kalajoki, Finland 6 Years Before Storyline_

* * *

If her ghastly white hair, or her gangly frame were not enough, she just had to be a walking giant among the army of dwarves at her feet. A young lady of thirteen years, Apollonia still managed to stun her classmates by towering over each and every one of them at the heinous stature of one hundred and seventy centimeters while the girls of her year barely set a finger on one hundred and sixty. She was well off, considering her father engulfed himself in his work at Finland's International Airport, Finnair, and her mother was a hard-nosed professor at the University of Oulu.

With a degree in Accounting and Finance, saying that Apollonia's mother, Virpi was a little frugal and a bit of a neurotic would be a drastic understatement. Balancing checkbooks became a sort of, 'bonding experience,' for the both of them: seeing as Apollonia was naturally curious about numerical facts and figures and Virpi was just short of a walking calculator. She even taught her how to make spreadsheets depicting how the family's money was being divided when purchasing groceries, utilities, luxuries, her summer break travels, everything.

Needless to say, after seeing just how much her mother and father were shelling out not only for her trips to varying countries, but also saving for her college of choice, Apollonia seldom asked for luxuries such as new clothes or the latest technology.

As well, due to her father's affiliation with multiple countries, she was constantly bombarded with stories of varying cultures and accents every time he went on a business trip. Though Apollonia seldom saw her father face-to-face, she was very much aware of her likeness with the man. In their home in Kalajoki, photos of her father running and jumping at numerous track meets littered their walls, from both High School and College. He was born with the name, 'Jouko,' yet yearned to press naming laws by referring to himself as, 'Joutsen,' after their national bird, in hopes that he too would gain that sort of recognition. He was a proud man, and his love for sports had been passed down to her generation, though she did not exactly follow her father's route of athletic accomplishments.

Virpi's unfortunate fragility had been passed down to Apollonia: being statuesque had its downfalls as most women in her family suffered from arthritic symptoms and weak immune systems. It first became apparent when Apollonia first tried out for a track association during secondary school: she took off sprinting so that the coaches could base an exercise routine based on her skill level, but were shell-shocked when the sinewy Finn fell to the turf after a mere two hundred meters, clutching her knee as if the bone had exploded from her skin.

After a tumultuous visit to the hospital—her mother pacing at her daughter's side as they analyzed and wrapped her knee, her father calling every hour to ensure that she'd be all right—the doctors informed Virpi and Joutsen that Apollonia did not have any serious injuries. She was fine save for a couple bruises and scrapes much to Apollonia's bemusement as she rubbed tentatively on her knee. She was thin, and always achy after vigorous activities, but never did it occur to either of them that perhaps Apollonia too would carry the burden of weak muscles, and brittle bones.

Due to suffering from joint pain herself, she taught Apollonia ways to minimize her pain—taking part in yoga, indulging in aromatherapy, the magic of menthol rub—everything to help Apollonia function without having to worry about aches and pains just from shrugging her shoulders. Virpi's alternative medicine, plus her father's unnatural tolerance for pain eventually led Apollonia to gain the courage to take part in athletics merely months later—though not exactly club activities.

Often, when she was resting, she'd indulge in international sports, watching live coverage on the computer of Brazil dominating the realms of soccer, America demolishing their competition at the summer Olympics, and of course, she was part of the Nordic bandwagon whenever they flexed their muscles in winter events.

'_Mother_,' she had politely asked, '_has father ever ran in Kenya?_'

Virpi inquired what would prompt such a question from her daughter, leading Apollonia to explain that after watching the New York Marathon, and the multitude of Kenyans demolishing the competition, she had to wonder if her prodigious father ever took along their side to learn their running culture, being a Decathlete as well as an avid runner himself.

Virpi responded that her father did in fact watch Kenyans compete, but never actually found logic in flying to the African continent just to run with them.

'_I think I'd like to run in Kenya_,' Apollonia said, which earned her mother's hand flush against her forehead, as she assumed Apollonia was suffering from feverish delusions. Apollonia brushed her mother's hand away and prodded, '_I'd like to try out many sports in other countries_.'

Virpi shook her head, wondering just how strong the medication issued by the doctor was, but Apollonia pressed on, eventually wearing down her mother, who allowed her father to indulge in her daughter's desire to expand culturally.

'_She wants to travel_,' her father inquired, a bit brighter than usual. Perhaps he was somewhat delighted that she wanted to try her hand in athletics once again, though her approach was not exactly conventional. So he did what any father who was skillfully wrapped around his only daughter's finger: he bade Apollonia's wishes to travel continent to continent—though not without laying a few ground rules of course.

First, she was to keep her grades in tiptop shape, placing nothing less than top five percent of her school, and ensuring that no matter where she settled, she would flourish in college. Second, she was not to be ignorant when traveling—she would have to fervently study the customs of the lands she visited, even if she were just staying there for but a day—she would have to learn as much of the language as she could, grammar included, and avoid any faux pas if she could help it. Apollonia was always able to shrewdly bypass that hurdle by being fluent in English, not that she didn't at least learn, '_Where is the bathroom_,' in multiple languages.

Thus began the tradition she set for herself, traveling abroad to walk, run and jump in the native lands of athletes from varying cultures and ethnicities, learning from them what ignited their passion to play their own personal sport. She never actually socialized with any of the natives, not to the extent where they knew her name by heart, but she watched them. Intently, and thoroughly she watched them, studied them and picked apart their actions.

It was intoxicating, in a sense, to learn what drove people to play what they played, what ignited their passions. Rather than ask the athletes themselves, she read their articles, and watched their coverage on the televisions displayed in electronic stores. Seeing their faces in pixels through windows was more comfortable to her than imagining them in the flesh.

Still even with all of her colorful experiences in foreign countries, when she returned to Finland, she was the same, statuesque, stoic, stone-faced bore that all her classmates came to semi-regard. They looked at her with questioned side-glances, finding her studious personality grey and formless, her cultural intrigue indulgent and privileged when most of their families worked hard in timber mills and the waters just to save for future schooling.

Needless to say, the tedious habit of studying until her eyes turned red paired with the odd myriad of cultural influence taking root in Apollonia made for quite an intellectual, but antisocial individual. Not that her disposition as being socially withdrawn was entirely forced upon her though; her unorthodox upbringing, her height, and androgynous face may have played a large role in other students avoiding her, but it was not as if she were desperate for their company in the first place.

Apollonia may have been well off, but that did not mean she shirked the value of hard work. After her spill on the track and the perpetual aches and pains she endured day to day, she desired to gain a degree in sport's medicine—thus fervently studied medical terminology and practices. During the weekends, she rummaged through the Oulu libraries for foreign travel guides, a few from Helsinki if her father found anything to her interests. In truth, she would have rather spent her free time studying and entrenching herself in the work of her parents rather than fake interest in things such as whether or not a boy from her class looked her way or not.

It was a no-brainer when her parents offered her the option to stay a year in America her first year of high school to learn gymnastics. She frequently emailed them and called them with information regarding her stay and the immeasurable strides she was making towards Athletic Training and her extracurricular activities. They were more than happy to hear that their young cygnet was flourishing so well in California, though a little perplexed when she requested the opportunity to attend a school in Japan. Her parents were understandably apprehensive, but when Apollonia finished her first year with a perfect GPA in all honors classes, it was hard to say 'no.'

She had her boarding bag slung over her shoulder, a suitcase in tow, and a copy of the housing address where she would be staying for her second year of high school.

There she stood, waiting for her seats to be called, her legs firm with resolve as she strode down the corridor. As she slung her bag over her shoulder, she took a breath in and exhaled slowly.

Her neck bowed and her wings spread, Apollonia retracted her twining roots and set off for Japan.

* * *

_Karasuno High School, One Year Before Storyline_

* * *

"So, you've brought us a shorty, and a walking stick."

Both looked at each other, Apollonia bringing her hand up to gesture that Nishinoya was in fact the short one, while Nishinoya proceeded to point accusingly to Apollonia's gangly wrist to gesture that she was in fact the walking stick. The third years crossed their arms and shook their heads.

"What a catch, Sugawara-kun."

Apollonia proved true to form by showing nary a physical reaction to their insult, though Nishinoya showed enough gusto for both of them as he bounced up and down, threatening each and every third year to a match, even if it meant that the three of them had to play the entire team in a battle royale. Sugawara desperately tried to shut the first year up, but to no avail as some of the rowdier Regulars goaded the then-Captain for a quick match. They should have been thankful that Kurokawa was as laid back as he was. Ever the stone-faced individual, he just looked up and down the two, 'new recruits,' not really having knowledge of them ever applying. The white haired one, at least.

"If you want to join, then you have to play a match," was all that Hiroki gave them.

In response, the third years challenged the first and second year to a three on three match: if they could win even one game against their best blocker, their smartest setter, and strongest spiker, then they would induct the two, no questions asked. Since Sugawara was ultimately the one who brought these two misfits into their midst, he would be responsible for them, serving as their resident setter. Sugawara couldn't say that he was exactly happy of course, to be playing his elders with a foreign woman and vertically challenged first year: for one, he was disturbed that even the third years had mistaken Apollonia as a man, but what really took it for him was that Apollonia didn't even seem affected.

In fact… she looked curious.

There was a certain glow lingering in her stare, a sort of frigid warmth that refracted off of her, so sharply that almost looked painful to touch. She may not have been out loud with her enthusiasm as Nishinoya had, but her demeanor was anything but grey. Despite the unwavering expression on her face, and her unchanging appearance, it was almost as if Apollonia had completely switched personalities. That, or her true form was taking root, however clichéd it sounded in Sugawara's head.

Either way, she was staring down the third years with taught composure, but undoubtedly ready to take each attack head on with her own drive.

If it had not been such a beguiling sight to behold, Sugawara would have been terrified just by the look in her eye.

"Uh, Apollonia-chan?"

Her shoulders were still squared towards the third years, but she spared a glance from the side.

"You can spike, right?"

She nodded.

"Good," Sugawara said with a relieved grin, "I swear, I'll do my best to give you a great toss!"

Her face had cracked the slightest, the serrated glass edges softening as she fully looked Sugwara in the eye.

"… Just make it high," she said firmly, quietly.

Sugawara flinched, honestly a bit stunned by her proclamation. She had openly said that she would hit anything he threw at her as long as it met her standards of, '_high_', and though it was marked by an underlying self-confidence, the imminent trust that she had placed in him and his setting prowess nearly staggered Sugawara. He was shaken from his thoughts as he watched Apollonia take her place at the back corner of the court to serve. He glanced over the Nishinoya, who was springing side to side on the balls of his feet with his knees crouched and ready for play.

"I guess that means you'll take your place as our Defensive Specialist." Nishinoya grunted and bared his teeth in a wide grin.

"You can count on me," he chirped.

With that, Sugawara lowered himself, readying himself for Apollonia's serve.

* * *

"Sugawara, you've been holding back on us!"

The third years had watched as she stepped far back for a jump serve, alert and ready to cover their vulnerable corners. They followed her as her stride pushed forwards, and threw the ball into the air. Smooth and wispy like smoke, they tightened their hamstrings as she ascended.

Metaphysical wings tore through her cotton sweatshirt, flexing as they stretched from wall to wall, keeping her airborne as her arms swept for the serve. She landed clumsily, though solidly, the muscles in her thighs vibrating as they braced for the impact.

Her serve smacked down hard enough to create a lingering ring the upperclassmen's ears. It whipped back the hair of two Regulars as it sailed in between them, the sound of synthetic leather meeting the court floor with a deafening thump. The third years gawked at the ball as if it would spontaneously combust behind them—and seemed surprised that it hadn't done so already.

Sugawara straightened up as he turned around Apollonia, who wasn't even paying attention to the ramifications of her actions, but tightening the bandages around her wrist and shaking it out as she flexed her fingers. When she looked back up, she recoiled her head, and scrunched her mouth into a tight frown.

"What?"

Nishinoya lurched up to her, his mouth dropped open. He fruitlessly pawed at her arm, trying to get a holding on her elbow, though kept misjudging just how far she was from him. He stumbled forwards a little more, taking a firm grip on her forearm.

"Ap-pple-sa-am-m-a," he groaned, before nearly falling to his knees, still a firm grip on Apollonia's arm. She was leaning down awkwardly, trying to hold his weight while keeping herself stable. Finally, he let go and fell to the floor, holding his hands up in prayer with his head bowed to her.

"I will do my best, senpai," he howled, "Please believe in me as well!"

Apollonia glanced over towards Sugawara as if to say, '_How do I deal with this_?' But, Sugawara already had his head hanging in his hand that he was completely alone with a scene-making Libero and socially inept foreigner in his possession, and he did not even having Daichi—who was always so sure of himself—to handle what he likened to a pair of flustered children.

He looked back up to see Apollonia crouched down in front of Nishinoya, awkwardly patting his back with a spread palm, as if she were afraid to actually touch him, saying something along the lines of, '_I believe in you. Please stand up. Please stop crying_.'

Nishinoya responded favorably and sprung to his feet, helping up a deer-legged Apollonia as she pulled her compression sock back up over her thigh. Nishinoya held his hands up to regain her attention, palms open and inviting as he leaned from leg to leg, still trembling with excitement. At first, Apollonia did not appear to know the proper, 'Japanese,' way of responding, searching again for answers from Sugawara. The setter laughed and held his own hands up, as if to say, '_It's a high five, Apollonia-chan, surely they have those in Finland too._' Apollonia appeared to have read the thoughts spanning his mind as she raised a thin eyebrow and returned Nishinoya's gesture.

The young libero leaped up into the air, whooping and hollering as he turned back to the third years—who by now, had gone from awestruck to perplexed after watching the dynamics between Nishinoya and Apollonia—and pointed a finger to them.

"One point! We'll take our jackets now!"

Apollonia and Sugawara smacked their heads respectively.

"Nishinoya-kun, the wager was one game," Sugawara quietly corrected.

The Libero stopped as the realization had hit him straight between the eyes, though he did not seem discouraged; rather, he seemed even more enthusiastic than before.

"Good then, I'm just getting started!" He turned to his two teammates, smile wide and animated. "Apple-san, Suga-san, we can do it!"

* * *

It was a humbling experience to be reminded why she did not participate in everyday club sports.

She wasn't exactly out of shape, but she wasn't exactly, '_conditioned_,' either. She was more than unprepared for the match at hand. It probably would have been in her best interests not to indulge in such laughable things like sports, to even indulge in the social presence of others at all.

It was like a sixty-story building was crushing her, the unbearable pressure imparted by the gravity of the universe sucking her strength from the inside out. The bandages on her arm had burned off, curling around her wrist like a white-hot python, squeezing her until her entire arm was scorched in agony. She could feel the muscles in her body twitching, cautioning her of her actions, and threatening to fail if she proceeded any longer. Had she the gumption, her entire body would have been trembling under the spectrum of pain flushing through her veins, every color and hue of unsavory sensation plowing through her like a speeding train.

She was holding her knees—alert, but heavier than she was near the beginning of the match—and profusely sweating from her brow. Sugawara and Nishinoya were no better, as the third years proved more to be more than friendly adversaries as they fully realized what sort of team they were up against.

Each player individually was formidable in his or her own right: Nishinoya seemed to have vastly improved within a mere year, his receives swifter and cleaner than his performance in Middle School. Sugawara was already a noteworthy setter, hardworking and passionate to please his teammates and ensure that they did their best, which efficiently frustrated the senior setter that a young blood was quickly shadowing his throne. Apollonia herself was a force to be reckoned with, despite her obvious lack of stamina and discomfort with playing group volleyball.

Ordinarily, people with such extraordinary talent flourish independently, but when paired together, their specialties do not accent—or compliment—one another as effectively as people may think. But these three, these two scrawny boys and a girl from Finland, worked together better than the upperclassmen thought possible. Cumulatively, the three of them probably spoke at the most four sentences to one another prior to the match, yet their teamwork was almost as fluid as the third years they were currently playing.

With but a glance of their eyes and twitch of their bodies, they efficiently communicated their prospective movements to one another, barely having to utter more than, 'Toss,' and 'Got it!' They didn't have any fancy tricks or clever plays, yet they were still able to snatch points away right out of their hands.

Nishinoya was panting heavily, struggling to make all of his receives as they soared over the net. Sugawara was sweating through his uniform, leaning over a little more sluggishly than he intended to show. Yet they still stood strong, unyielding, branching out as they reached far and wide to scrounge for the ball. They needed but one point, and the match would be theirs. Though the outcome of the match would not directly affect Apollonia—considering since she was a woman, and did not have the tolerance for competitive sports—once she made her gender known to the seniors, she would just bow her head respectfully, thank the for the match and be on her way back to the track.

But the look in Sugawara and Nishinoya's eyes, she had never seen such a sight before and it was enthralling. Sugawara was already a member of the team, but the passion that he bore for the both of them was flattering. He was giving his all as a setter just so that Nishinoya and herself could perform their best. Nishinoya was so desperate to prove that he was worth his weight in gold—and then some. They were radiant, it was almost otherworldly their spirit. It didn't matter if her fate regarding the volleyball club relied on the match's outcome, it didn't even matter that it was Nishinoya's fate that relied on the match.

What mattered was that not even a week had she spent in Japan and she already felt a tangling root connecting her with these two scrawny natives. They were so invigorated, so refreshing, more so than any other culture she had experiences. Their energy inspired her, and she wanted to do her best to inspire them, to please them, to help them soar higher than any tree or bird.

Her body was crumbling in on itself like a disintegrating building, her walls caving in as every muscle fiber, every joint feeling as though they would either snap or explode if she moved another inch. Every twitch was a solid shock to her body, tearing her down muscle fiber by muscle fiber, bone tissue by bone tissue.

But she had to be strong, no matter how much it hurt, she _wanted_ to be strong. For Sugawara, for Nishinoya, for her parents, and for herself. If they could stand tall with fire still igniting their actions, then she surely could do the same.

With a small exhale she flexed her shoulder blades, doing all she could to relax her muscles and flush the poison from her body.

Sugawara had tossed the ball high into the air, and at first Apollonia had mused if his toss had been too high, but as she looked to the side to see his exuberant face—how proud he was of all of them, how much he trusted her and believed in her—Apollonia back stepped for a slight running start. Her arm whipping behind her and back down was but a blur, the only indication of her success being Sugawara whooping and Nishinoya roaring so loudly his voice had cracked.

But, as she stood in place—completely blank-faced—there was a droning in her ears; everything was clogged with sweat and she heard murmuring she couldn't adequately identify. But she was content—even though it didn't show—she was content. Sugawara was congratulating the both of them, and Nishinoya couldn't have looked more pleased with himself. She was stifling the trembling in her arms, and the weak, wet paper feeling in her legs, somehow being able to stand strong by their happiness alone.

The third years were discussing amongst themselves what to make of the two—the three of them as a team and how they would affect the dynamics of the formation during matches. Apollonia couldn't make out their mumbled words, nor did she really care to as Nishinoya took it upon himself to grapple onto her back like a crawling monkey. She nearly broke in two as she leaned back to accommodate his weight, hooking his sweaty legs in the crook of her arms to stabilize the both of them.

Sugawara seemed to be laughing at the whole ordeal, though his voice seemed miles away, his movements becoming sluggish and fuzzy. She could hear her own breathing: it was loud, and impolite, low and hard like a dog. She let Nishinoya slide down her back, until she could feel him stand firmly behind her, his arms wrapped firmly around her hips as he squeezed the life out of her. She looked up at Sugawara, who was now scrutinizing her with a concerned expression. She could hear his voice, or what she thought was his voice, and he was turning her around towards the bathrooms. She must have shied away from the pain inflicted by his simple touch, for he was lightly hovering over her, but not actually touching her.

Her path was hazy, but somehow the walls had changed colors around her, and she found herself in what looked like a community washroom. Somehow she found herself on the floor, her arms were shaking, her entire body shivering. She looked over to the side to see that Sugawara was no longer at her side, but an ethereal looking young girl with lavish black hair and blue eyes more saturated than her own. She wore a simple tracksuit, and was looking over Apollonia with a stoic expression.

She felt her forehead, and wiped the sweat from her brow, and went to grab one of Apollonia's wrists, but the Finn jerked her hand away when a sharp stab jolted through her hand. The girl looked at her for a moment, before sitting down next to her leaning against the lockers as Apollonia was. Apollonia regarded her with a wary stare, but remained calm, despite her labored breathing.

"You shouldn't have pushed yourself so hard. The third years are pretty scary."

Her voice was as sweet as it was stern, and yet demure all at the same time. Apollonia glanced over at her, still breathing heavily, though somewhat easier as she conversed with her.

"You're the new girl, aren't you? The foreign one?"

Apollonia nodded slowly, her heart rate stabilizing as she straightened up.

"Apollonia Manner," she said evenly. The girl nodded her head respectfully and leaned back against the lockers.

"Shimizu Kiyoko," she said. Apollonia as well nodded her head respectfully in response.

"I'm the manager," Kiyoko clarified. Apollonia just looked at her for a moment before turning her head up towards the ceiling: it was cracked and bleak, the ridges and breaks in the plaster almost parallel to the horrid sensations in her body. She tried to stretch out her muscles lightly to ease the pain, grunting here and there when her arm would over extend, when her leg would bend a way it did not wish to bend.

"He speaks very highly of you," Kiyoko mentioned suddenly.

Apollonia flinched briefly, turning her head full direction towards Kiyoko.

"Koushi," she inquired. Kiyoko looked to be taken back by her casual address, her informalities almost a shock to her, though her expression quickly glazed over as she nodded in confirmation.

"He said he would try to sit you in on a practice match. I guess he didn't intend on getting you involved in one, or for it to go this far."

"It wasn't my intention to last this long," the Finn countered, "as well, I did not intend to collapse."

Kiyoko nodded, but did not utter a word.

"I'm sorry for my display," Apollonia began politely, "It was discourteous of me to react like that when everyone else is so happy."

Kiyoko honestly didn't know how to respond to such an attitude, and settled for saying nothing at all, instead taking a deep breath in and out through her petite nose. Apollonia was still: her heartbeat had regulated, her arms had stopped shaking, and she seemed to be a fair bit more conscious than she was before.

"I do not wish to worry him," Apollonia started, "I only wish to help him. Both of them."

Kiyoko looked over at the foreigner, slightly surprised, though well hidden by her straight face.

"Why would you want to do that?"

Apollonia only shrugged in return.

* * *

_Extra_

* * *

She walked out of the bathroom, Kiyoko at her side, only to see the entirety of the third years standing in a perfect line down the court. Their faces were beet red, their arms flush at their side, and Kurokawa hot on their heels with a fowl look they had never seen from their stoic captain. They didn't want to look the girl in the eye directly, instead staring at their shoes as if they could drill holes in the ground beneath their feet. They looked unnervingly bashful, and it need no explanation what they were suddenly so flustered about: Sugawara and Nishinoya stood off to the side, silently chuckling and waving to a bemused Apollonia as Kurokawa strode up to her and bowed.

He cleared his throat loudly, before uttering, "Our sincerest apologizes, Manner-san. If there is anything that any of us may do for you, please, do not hesitate to ask."

The entire team made a grunt of agreement, followed by a quick proclamation of what Apollonia assumed to be in a repentant fashion, and a low, unified bow as well.

Apollonia just stood there, red-faced and confused. She turned to Kiyoko and asked, "Do I bow back?"

Oddly, Kiyoko offered the girl a small grin and chuckled quietly.

"No," she said, "Not at all."

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

* * *

_Thank you to all of the new followers, favorites and reviews, I appreciate every single one of them!_

_Virpi__: Finnish, translated to 'Young, Beautiful, Slim Tree; Branch; Sprig.'_

_Joutsen__: Finnish, 'Swan.' (His given name, 'Jouko,' essentially means, 'tall.')_

_**Edit: since Karasuno really didn't have problematic third years, I somewhat altered their confrontations seeing as Kurokawa (the previous captain) was actually a pretty decent guy. I doubt he'd let such a happening occur on his watch if he had known Apollonia was a girl._


	4. Catch

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

* * *

**_Chapter 4: Catch_**

* * *

_Karasuno High School, One Year Before Storyline _

_The __Next Day._

* * *

She was wearing a cuff—a rather large one at that. Almost like a makeshift cast, one of those medical braces that could be found at sport's stores within the injury rehab and prevention section. It was black and bulky—it honestly looked rather uncomfortable to even have on what with the different ways that it wrapped across her wrist and knuckles.

She was diligently reading her textbook when Sugawara stalked up to her, head low and tail tucked between his legs. Taking notes with her left hand, and appeared to be the ever hardworking, studious individual.

Appeared.

But from her side, Sugawara was contracting a fatal case of frostbite.

"Are you okay?"

Sugawara was standing by Apollonia's desk, his hand fidgeting with the strap of his bag in gesture of apprehension. Apollonia turned her head, the hue of her hair becoming more menacing than ethereal in the powerful morning light. Though her face was overall blank, if not unreadable, Sugawara was still able to detect a fair amount of hostility. She was irritated, that much was certain. To address what exactly she was irritated about, well, Sugawara had a pretty fair guess. After all, Apollonia had made it explicitly clear that she was not interested in going or even interacting with any clubs; thus whenever she found herself playing a match against a bunch of energized third years, and nearly collapsing afterwards, she wasn't exactly happy having to strap such a bulky, inconveniencing brace to her wrist.

"I am fine."

She resumed reading her book, hoping that Sugawara would accept her response and be on his way. Though unfortunately for Apollonia, he stood patiently at her side, despite the bit of rime forming on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you hurt your wrist."

A small noise formed in the back of her throat.

"Please be direct," she deadpanned.

Sugawara shrunk back slightly, unable to respond.

"Are you here to ask me to help you practice just like your seniors already have?"

Sugawara had to admit that Apollonia was rather formidable when it came to reading minds, because she had openly exposed his self-serving intentions. And, she did it entirely straight faced.

Sugawara grasped for an explanation—anything at all—and found himself scrambling to repent for his superiors' actions.

"I'm sorry that some of them were a bit… overzealous. That's just how they are," Sugawara apologized, "Kurokawa-san promised to reprimand them and already apologized to Ukai-san for wasting practice time. Uhm... I was planning on inviting you to another practice… but after yesterday, you don't have to even come near the gymnasium if you don't want to," he added. "I mean, I know you said you didn't want to be part of any club activities, but I was just hoping that you would at least like to make some friends. The second years aren't that bad, and there are some really great first years too, like Nishinoya. You're really great, too," he chirped, rubbing the back of his head, trying to laugh off his own double entendre, "I've never seen someone like you before. I-I mean, not like, you look different than us, because you do, don't, but-"

Sugawara continued with his long-winded speech, avoiding her eye contact the best that he could as he laughed nervously and scratched the side of his temple, shifting from foot to foot as he essentially repeated the same apology with different words.

Apollonia's eyes had altogether glazed over, his words but muddled nasal noises. Her eyes, always searching and shrewdly analyzing, settled on menial aspects of his appearance: his little mole at the corner of her cheek, that odd bit of hair that flicked up from his fringe, the round, youthful shape of his face. His mouth moved in a beguiling way, one that imitated a child's though was mature enough to be an adolescent's: it was wide and cheerful, and had Apollonia not been so skilled in keeping her stoicism in check, perhaps she would have moved her mouth in the same manner. Shaking her head from her thoughts, she blinked and snapped her eyes closed before renewing Sugawara's clarity before her.

To her surprise, he was still talking; so in order to politely silence his unnecessary monologue, she said, "You toss very well."

Sugawara stopped.

"Huh," he responded intelligently.

"I've never known a setter. Back in Kalajoki, I played by myself, so I didn't know any setters. I like the way that you toss."

Granted she was implying that he was the _only_ one to ever toss to her, but a compliment was a compliment, and Sugawara would take it whole-heartedly.

"Really," Sugawara said, his voice rising with hope, "So, would you possibly want to play with us again?"

"No."

* * *

_Lunch_

* * *

Apollonia swore after the entire scene with the third years the day prior, she would altogether avoid volleyball.

Yet during the match, an overwhelming euphoria had swept her senses, making her feel alive, strong, and powerful. Even when a thousand volts of pain would flood her body. Despite playing amateur volleyball since childhood on the beaches of Kalajoki, Apollonia felt as though she had really played for the first time. The teamwork. The camaraderie. It was freeing, and electrifying being able to see someone at your side while another protected your back. It was the feeling of presence, just the simple awareness of the body next to her, that despite her foreign face and foreign voice, she was not alone.

So, after a sleepless night, and an entire tub of menthol rub covering her wrist and elbow, Apollonia felt a strong gravitational pull towards the volleyball courts once more despite every rational voice in her head telling her, 'No.' She inwardly scolded herself for misdirecting her frustrations onto Sugawara, the only real Japanese native who had shown her any cordiality thus far. It made her sick to her stomach, as though she had made a mistake discounting him as he clumsily tried to apologize to her. So with the ball firmly under her wing, she set off towards the courts. Perhaps if she could improve herself, both skillfully and socially, she might be able to at least indulge his interest in the sport. She may not have played with as much vigor as they do, but she knew the game, and could at least offer her services during the weekends if any of them were as volleyball-crazy as she assumed them to be.

Though she'd never admit it, Apollonia was taken with them, holding no so much as adoration for them, but a need to impress them and please them. So that they'd smile genuinely and give thanks to her, acknowledge her, and make her feel less like, 'that gaijin,' and more like a person.

The court was empty, both the net put away and the basketball hoops locked to give the gym an almost barren appearance. She glanced around to ensure that she was the only person within its walls, setting her athletic bag down beside her. She unlatched her skirt, sliding down the fabric down over her athletic shorts. She removed her shirt and sweater until she was left with a simply white undershirt, then slipped around her wrist and compression glove that extended over her elbow before covering her torso with her Stanford sweatshirt.

Despite many desperate attempts at washing it, it still smelled like California: salty like the seaside air, mixing with potent aroma of sunscreen and board polish as the surfers ran on by. Yet, the scent was fading, slowly but surely: and was quickly being replaced with what she had to assume to be the distinct scent of Japan, or at the very least, Miyagi. The aroma of her sweatshirt was trivial at best, but the more she thought about the sudden, imminent change that just a piece of cloth had experienced, she began to see changes in its stitching, in its form, its color. As if it were quickly adapting to an entirely new climate, as well an entirely new culture. Apollonia felt a childish wave of jealousy that a piece of cloth could better accustom itself to an entirely new world quicker than she could.

She dribbled the volleyball against her bare, cuff-less right hand, cringing as shockwaves of sensation pulsed through her wrist, down her hand and across her knuckles and finger joints. It ricocheted up her elbow, causing it to jerk in reaction. The ball fell to her feet, bouncing off of her wide toe box away from her. She quickly recovered it, her right side still trembling quietly, the unnatural mixture of pinching nerves and imploding joint pressure proving an act as simple as dribbling a simple pleather ball quite frustrating for Apollonia.

"Mene pois," she commanded in a hushed whisper, as if the nerves in her arm would suddenly comply. She set down the ball and stretched, starting from her fingers down her knuckles, before making her way down to her wrist where she favored the joint a little longer than necessary, and traveled to her elbow, stretching the tension wound up at the base of her forearm. Slowly, the aches and pains faded, though just below the surface. Apollonia flexed her fingers, now still and strong, and picked up the ball. She looked past the netting at her eye level, towards the horizon of the other side, and exhaled.

* * *

They had walked in on her practicing her serve accuracy. Daichi, Sugawara and Asahi were all but dragged by Nishinoya and Tanaka towards the gym for extra practice: though the seconds year had to admit that it was nothing short of a miracle that the two were getting along, especially after almost getting into several fights before they even met on the court.

She had set up five bottles in a straight thread just off of the backline, equal distances apart from one another. It was a simple practice that they had all participated in, each boasting varying results. With diligence, Daichi managed to successfully down every bottle without missing a shot, Sugawara a close second, though the setter was light handed whenever he tried to wrap his head around hitting such a small target. Asahi himself could not pull off such accurate blows, but was able to demolish whatever stood in his way with his swing, the aftershocks proving sufficient enough to indirectly knock the bottles over.

But she hit each shot with such tedious accuracy, hitting each bottle at its core from her single position at the serving line. She set up the bottles again, though this time riddled throughout the back zone, without any pattern or form. Again, from her perch she was able to knock down each barrier without missing a step. Her serves came faster, stronger, higher, and bolder. Her third set of serves, she even managed to mangle one of the bottles past recognition, ultimately tossing it to the side and continuing with just four rather than five.

They just sat back with their heads peeking through the door, unable to react to her manner of serving. It was efficient—she did not use more energy than she needed to—and it was effortless, as if every muscle fiber in her arm were still dormant, despite the audible sounds of the ball hitting the court. It was a carnal strength that resided in her body, despite its unimpressive build. Her primitive strength was almost enough to compensate for her lack of speed: for despite her accuracy and vicious strength, she was frightfully slow in delivery, as if even in real time, her serves were executed in slow motion. She left herself open, allowing enough time for her opponents to prepare for her attack.

Slow or not, the string of second years did not want to be at the butt-end of her serve regardless. Daichi had his chin jutted out trying to hide both the conflicting amazement as well as apprehension he felt after every resounding 'smack' of her hand. Asahi himself was slightly crouched behind his two friends as she attacked each one of her own serves like a predatory bird rushing across a watery floor. Sugawara's frostbitten body stood motionless as he watched her serve after serve.

It was more aggressive than before, and precise, she was surer of herself, she trusted herself. Another toss into the air before it finally registered that she was using her left hand in favor of her right.

He was aware since day one that she was possibly left-handed, despite using her right hand during the match the other day. But the fact that she was so easily serving with a hand he assumed was solely for writing, the fact that she was ambidextrous, a switch hitter no less... Well, he was speechless.

"APPLE-SAN! APPLE-SAN!"

All three of the second years were shoved backwards as Nishinoya broke through their wall towards an efficiently and thoroughly stunned Apollonia.

She was in the middle of yet another jump, but as the immaculately boisterous voice of Nishinoya bounced off every surrounding wall and maximized tenfold into a tumultuous uproar, she stopped midway. Landing awkwardly on her right leg. It buckled underneath her, sweeping her footing out and under, until she fell knee first against the floor, the volleyball dropping with a comedic '_thunk_' against her flustered head.

Nishinoya—who vaguely acknowledged the fact that the gangly foreigner just dropped like a big Finnic rock out of the sky—ran and stood over her, his fists raised over his head.

"Apple-san, are you here to practice with us too?!"

Apollonia turned in effort to scold Nishinoya—who by now was sitting cross-legged across her back as if she were some play yard pony, holding the discarded ball that brazenly hit her in the back of the head—but as she acknowledged his bubbling excitement, she found it increasingly difficult to just snip a firm, '_No_,' at him as she did Sugawara.

Nishinoya stepped off of her back, allowing her to rotate so that she was sitting on her hide, rising up into a wobbly stand. She lurched over and stretched knot of muscles and unlocked her joints as her spectators made their way into the gymnasium. She leaned back up with her arms pulled over her head, leaning back and to the side before she turned to the first year, still wriggling with anticipation.

If the rest of the first years were like this, then Apollonia had her work cut out for her. Her mouth ran thin as she tried not to make it obvious that she was chewing on her lower lip.

"Aa," she finally answered.

"YEEES," the little libero howled, jumping into the air while Sugawara stood dumbstruck behind him. The setter watched as Nishinoya pushed the ball back into Apollonia's grip, urging her to serve to him as he sprinted to the other side, but then back again when he decided he'd rather play on Apollonia's team instead of against her.

* * *

The second years were laid out flat across the court floor, facedown and panting, the only remaining bodies still active being Tanaka and Nishinoya. Apollonia caved first—greatly lacking energy—followed by Sugawara, then Daichi, and finally, Asahi.

"Ei enää koskaan," Apollonia groaned into the court floor, her right arm trembling and throbbing, her joints feeling as though they were chained with shackles ten sizes too small. Even though Sugawara didn't have a clue what she said, he groaned in agreement.

"The first years are _too_ lively," Daichi grumbled from the far end of the court, lying on his back as he looked wearily at the ceiling.

Asahi lay motionless next to Sugawara, though grunted as the setter nudged at his ribs with his foot to ensure that he was still breathing.

Tanaka and Nishinoya were still hopping from leg to leg on opposite side of the court—with Tanaka residing on Apollonia and Daichi's team, Apollonia providing meager setting, despite the position not placing high on her list of abilities. Apollonia was rather intellectual when it came to serving and spiking, but God forbid she'd even have to set for someone. Nishinoya was running circles around Asahi and Sugawara, both first years yelling in unison, "ONE MORE GAME! ONE MORE GAME!"

All three of the second years groaned in agony, waving their hand weakly in defeat. They had surely missed their next class—becoming too wound up in their game to realize their own absence. Still, they hardly cared as the jubilant sounds of their resident first years resonated off the walls, bringing their heads up to see the two dancing around like idiots.

Apollonia regarded the two, her hard expression softening into something delicate, though not entirely. She reached out and grabbed the ball before her, shifting into a more comfortable sitting position as she transferred the ball palm-to-palm. Looking from the faux leather surface to Tanaka and Nishinoya, her mouth taking form of something that almost could have been identified as a grin, though not quite gentle enough. After finding distaste in not being able to so much as smile, her face went back to it's resting expression, though it was clear that she was anything but angry. Rather than running off for studies or to wash the layer of sweat off her body, Apollonia looked comfortable in her place, or at least as comfortable as she was willing to show. Had she had a little more energy and a bottle of pain relievers, maybe she would have indulged another game with them.

She glanced over to see Sugawara grinning at her, stupidly, yet with a sense of endearment. It was a look of accomplishment, though she hardly knew what he could feel so accomplished about laying face down on a filthy, sweat-covered floor.

"What," she asked when Sugawara's grin grew even wider.

But, he only chuckled in response.

"Nothing."_  
_

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Mene pois: Finnish, 'Go away.'_

_Ei enää koskaan: Finnish, 'Never again/Nevermore.'_

_Just a few more chapters, and then the story will take place in the present with Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi._

_Please let me know what you think of the story so far, I definitely don't want characters to be OOC. And I don't want to put Apollonia too high on a pedestal (though her role is actually to be presented on a pedestal, in contrast to the reality when taking in her health issues.)_

_I hope you are all enjoying the story, thank you and good night/day!_

_**Edit: this chapter really got shaved down to essentials, I will be doing this to the rest of the chapters so it's not such an eyesore, just wanted to let you all know!_


	5. Stay

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

* * *

**_Chapter 5: Stay_**

* * *

_One year Before the Storyline_

* * *

_"When you flee from a wolf, you run into a bear."_

\- _Finnish Proverb_

* * *

It started out innocent enough. She would play a match against them here and there, she would serve for them so that they may practice their receives, she even acted as a blocker for Tanaka's hits so that Nishinoya could dig and dive to his heart's content. And after every practice, she would convince herself that this was the last time.

She'd assure herself that this would be the last time that she would watch Daichi smile confidently when he would pull of the perfect receive. She'd assure herself that this would be the last time she would watch Asahi beam in amazement when he would slam the ball straight through her arms. She'd assure herself that this would be the last time she would watch Nishinoya and Tanaka jump on each other's shoulders when they would cheer everyone on, calling for another serve.

She'd assure herself that this would be the last time she would be comforted by Sugawara's expectant grin, his kind words after a hard day of practice. She hoped it would be the last day he would speak openly to her, that after today, they would just be classmates, sparing maybe but a glance at one another in recognition. Because, if she had to hear his voice one more day—that gentle, patient voice with not a hint of disfavor—she wouldn't be able to look at herself in the mirror again.

In Finland, she had not experienced such kindness aside from her parents. Even in other countries, it was a different sort of benevolence she faced—it was a forced courtesy that the natives had shown her, something very similar to friendship—though they understood when she informed them that she would leave after only a couple weeks. It was the sort of, 'Foreigner's Syndrome,' that she was familiar with: she'd be treated with generosity and hospitality like a guest, but it was very obvious that she was little more than that.

She was accustomed to solitude, walking around without stable water to wade, without a bevy to call her own. She had moved by her own accord, all the way from continent to continent, from Finland to America to Japan. The silence was comfortable, and for as long as she could remember, being the only person in the room was normal. But, as she came across Daichi and his lot, they actually had the courage to call out to her. They asked her to play a game, a simple offer of frivolity. As much as she was turned off my social situations, she found it hard to turn away. She didn't deserve their attention: regardless of the fact that she was a person of novelty, regardless that they were the laughingstock of the volleyball community, she still didn't deserve their attention.

"I was planning on leaving for Finland after this year was over."

Daichi's eyebrows lifted, though Sugawara was the one to verbalize his shock. They were all gathered outside of the Foothill Store, the bag of snacks in Asahi's hanmd the only thing keeping hem from being accused of loitering.

"Really? You mean you're not going to stay in Miyagi? You don't want to finish high school here?"

She did her best to keep her face smooth, though underneath the surface, she had grimaced. It would only be a reminder that she'd have a reason to stay.

"I just travel to experience the culture, so I have no reason to continue residing in Miyagi."

Sugawara and Daichi exchanged sideways glances, both of them awkwardly scratching their heads.

"Well... I mean if that's what-"

Sugawara was interrupted by Nishinoya as he ducked under Asahi's arm and ran up to Apollonia and stretched his legs and neck so that his tuft of fringe could meet the bottom of her chin. "Don't do that!"

He had a firm grip on the sleeves of her sweatshirt, soaked in bottled water and perspiration, but was lightly being pulled back by Asahi and Daichi. Normally so bright and jovial, he looked hurt: his brow was furrowed, his mouth had scrunched into a hard frown, and he was breathing heavily through his nose. He was like a child throwing a tantrum, over something so menial, over _her_ of all people. He had only known her for a few weeks, and he was behaving this way. It took Apollonia off guard, in all honesty. She was nothing special, after all. Nishinoya wriggled out of Daichi and Asahi's grip and tugged on the front of her Stanford sweatshirt.

"We'll give you a reason to stay, we'll show you!"

"Nishinoya, calm down," Sugawara coaxed, trying to pry his grip from Apollonia's clothing. "You can't order her around."

"You have to stay and cheer us on at matches! We're going to win Nationals and you need to be there!"

Her indifferent mask broken, Apollonia spoke in spite of her expression, her voice like tepid water starting to boil.

"I cannot play for you in tournaments, I have no real position on this court. You're not gaining anything by playing with me. And you won't gain anything by having me cheer at matches."

Her eyes had milked over, becoming dark and opaque, as if she were trying to will the image of them out of her mind: their disappointed frowns, Nishinoya's frustrated sneer. Why were they making such a big deal over something so insignificant?

"What does that matter," Nishinoya shrieked. "You don't have to play with us or cheer for us to support us. Just be there!"

Daichi elbowed Asahi's ribs. "Does that make sense to you?"

"U-uh... Kind of."

"You're staying, Apple-san," Nishinoya concluded with a tone of finality.

"Nishinoya, you really can't force her to do anything."

"But we're going to win this year! Apple-San, we'll show you that we can win, and then you'll have to stay!"

Daichi's forehead was scrunched, ready for a retort, though he was stopped again by Nishinoya.

"Apple-san is cool! Her coolness will rub off on us and we'll win, and that'll show that she _has_ to stay with us!"

Sugawara and Daichi's brows tensed, strained grins frozen on their faces. That was his reasoning?

"Noya-san, that's so cool!"

"Just imagine with Apple-San teaching us those serves, we'll be even _cooler!_" He turned back around towards the person in question, hands still clasped with Tanaka's. "So, you have to stay in Japan, Apple-San!"

Apollonia stood at a loss of words, a loss of thought, a loss of everything. Even her heavy heart had completely dissipated within her chest, as if it had never existed at all. Her head was bowed, her mouth a fine line as it was sucked between her teeth. This wasn't forced hospitality; this wasn't false geniality they were showing her, despite the gibberish argument she was currently having with Nishinoya.

"I don't really understand... but I've never had anyone say anything like that to me before," she confessed.

Her superior grades didn't matter to her classmates, her aspirations to attain a degree in Sport's Medicine was never relevant. Back in Finland, she may as well not even been born with a name in the eyes of her peers. She was just that well-off girl who could afford to go to abroad for the summer, who didn't have to work hard to get what she wanted. And after hearing that for so long, she started to believe that she had nothing to contribute, nothing at all. An inferiority complex had built and festered within her without her knowledge and will; but now she may have had a chance to change that.

She took a long breath in, trying to relieve the pressure that was building in her lungs and throat as she squinted her eyes, puzzled. They wanted to gain notice for their schools, their families, their people, their country. She thought that just feeding off of their spark would be enough to justify her own indulgences by traveling so carelessly.

But she was not feeding, she was consuming their aspirations for herself, whether she realized her greed or not. Those were not her dreams, and she had no right to taken them as her own. But now, she felt a change in tide, a shift in the wind. She was to driven by their need to fly again.

She was driven by pride, as self-serving as it was, it was pride that solidified her resolve. It was her pride that would not let her see these boys fall again. She wanted to be needed, she wanted to be more than the gaijin with an upturned nose. It was the first time anyone had ever thanked her, the first time anyone had told her that she inspired them, it was the first time she even just one person to truly identify as her friend, her acquaintance even.

"So, you'll stay," Nishinoya chirped.

Apollonia craned her neck towards him, taking in every detail of his smiling face, then back up to each person behind him: the individual color of their eyes, the varying tones of their skin, their mussed up hair, the vibrant colors that made up their personality, the beautiful black they became when those colors mixed, every miniscule detail she could pick up, she swallowed it and engrained it in her brain, so that from now on, she may never forget these faces and their personal drives.

She could never step foot on this court in the same manner they could, her name would meaning nothing when they lined up against their opponents, they would likely never know who she was, and what she did for them. But she would make it known to the people before her. Words were not her forte, and whatever she said she would never be able to take back. So she had to make every syllable count.

"My name is Apollonia Eevastiina Manner," she began, "And I will not help you fallen crows fly again."

"I will help you soar."

* * *

From the moment the words left her mouth, she had regretted them. They had given her such kind, genuine sentiments, and all she had in return were artificial fragments strung in a lifeless sentence. What made matters worse was that they actually believed her.

She was privy in volleyball: she watched hours of it on the computer and read many, 'How-To,' books on the subject, and she even went through the trouble to play on her own on the shore of Kalajoki. She wasn't bad at volleyball, but she didn't have the pride to say that she could help them improve, that she was _better_ than them. Because, she wasn't. But she made her vow, and she willingly took that responsibility on her back. Whether she lived up to her hype or not, she could turn back on her word: if she had, then she might as well have said nothing at all.

So she threw herself into their training, paired with extra strengthening when she came home, before and after schoolwork. If she wanted to catch up with them, then she needed to be stronger: barely meeting her BMI would not cut it. When Apollonia put her mind to something, then everything else around her was blacked out. It was an extreme level of focus that could easily backfire: and often did when the team tried to acclimate her to Japan with offers of Nikuman and sight-seeing. She shunned their advances by letting her exercise routine consume her, and sometimes break her.

Moving country to country was not an easy thing at all: each move she was exposed to new illnesses, a drastically different climate, and a completely different time zone. There was no immediate switch that could be flipped to suddenly reprogram her to be, 'Japan-Friendly.' It was never that easy. So while her head was glued to her books and travel guides, her body distracted by training, Apollonia became a cesspool for back-to-back colds, fevers, infects, etcetera. For half of the first term she was more bed-ridden than she was active at school. Whenever she could she tried to back it to practices, and was unsurprisingly groggy throughout.

Her illnesses shut her off even further from the team, but still she showed up, performed her duties as a training partner, and then left to become even stronger. She kept her battle with her own body a well-kept secret from the team, even though it was obvious that she was less than functional. But, Sugawara and Daichi did not want to scare her away after fighting so hard to make her stay. They weren't quite as charming as Nishinoya was. It was against their amicable nature, but they allowed her to return to her shell and only come out when they needed her, treating her more like a tool than a club mate. Though they wanted to get to know her better, she was very adamant about keeping her distance and that they could respect. What little time she did spend with them, she at least looked like she enjoyed it—though honestly with a personality like Apollonia's, it was hard to tell. She still answered the little nagging questions they had, and would tell them stories of Finnic and Norse mythology, even though she really didn't seem interested in it herself.

But, once tournaments began and they had yet to produce favorable results, a slight change had contorted Apollonia's character.

She was more hands-on than she was before: she and Sugawara had created a non-verbal exchange system to aid them in communication, she pushed herself harder in blocking, so that she wouldn't even need another blocker beside her. Her training at home became more rigorous, and she spent hours upon hours flipping through her school books and volleyball journals. And with each loss, she looked more disheartened than they did, even though she was not playing. But, her absence on the court was likely part of why she felt such a heavy burden for their success. She wanted to be part of a team herself, but not just any team: _their_ team. She could have flourished in girl's volleyball had they seen her play. But, it became clear that Apollonia was not looking to join the girl's team—not even specifically the boy's team either. She just wanted to be on their team, with _them_ specifically. Whenever they came together, it felt like they were more than just a couple of kids playing a game.

Whenever Ukai Sr. collapsed, Apollonia surprisingly accepted Kurokawa's offer to aid them in coaching. She practiced less, but she was still a solid part of their foundation. It was clear that Apollonia was not the coaching type seeing as how soft-spoken she was and how much of a recluse she could be. Their captain often took the vocal part while Apollonia gave her opinion when it was asked. By gaining an even higher title than she had before, Apollonia had taken on even more responsibility—responsibility that she was not capable of wielding.

With each loss came a pang of guilt that she could not do more for them, she couldn't be better for them, that she wasn't good enough to claim that they could be better in comparison. Though it never showed, she took each loss personally, wondering what they did wrong, what _she_ did wrong. Everyone had worked so hard and given their all, and yet none of them were good enough: both individually and as a team. She had been their training partner, and their temporary coach, and yet she felt as though she was more like dead weight than an invigorating change.

The poison of negativity had built up again: it left her food tasteless, and the skies perpetually grey, her academics meaningless and her presence in Japan wasteful. She promised them poetic lies and fed them plastic words. She should have known her place and kept herself scarce; but they had given her such energy that she couldn't bear to stay away. Even as they walked off the court, utterly defeated, they still bowed to her and a few fans left in the stands, wavering looks of gratitude on their faces.

They fell, so hard on their backs with their wings twisted and broken, their spirits shattered. They had climbed to the top of the tree, they had seen the sky, and they were so ready to feel the wind underneath their wings. She had promised them, she swore.

But so hard, they fell.

Apollonia left the gym and made her way home. She was a burden as a training partner, and she was a burden as a coach. She couldn't play alongside them, and she couldn't teach them anything they already knew. She was left with another option, however. She still had one path that she could take.

The shuffle in her feet was lost as she raised her chest and picked up her pace.

She'd prove to them that she had a reason to stay.

* * *

"I must say, Manner-kun, I'm a bit apprehensive to allow this, but your contributions to the school, as well as these impeccable grades that are now on our records are hard to ignore."

Apollonia nodded politely.

"I was hoping that this would be able to help further my career as an Athletic Trainer. I want to specialize in sport's medicine and I was hoping that using me as an experiment on the volleyball team isn't too much to ask."

"Well, your test scores are through the roof, and you faired pretty well on your essays despite your language barrier. The only thing you need to do is gain a sponsorship. You can try asking a hospital specializing in this type of medicine, or you can try a University. Do you have anything in mind?"

Apollonia's skin had turned cold. '_A University?_'

Before, she was just faced with the decision of finishing high school in Miyagi, but now attending a Japanese college? She had a wary track record of being flighty, and the Japanese were not expectantly searching for people who restlessly traveled as she had. She'd have to prove that she wouldn't take the sponsorship and then just flee: she had to prove that regardless of any outcome, she would stay for more than just her intended year.

"I…" Her voice shook slightly, the realization of just how permanent the ramifications of her actions would be—her actions that she was dedicating to these simple teenaged boys.

"I'll look at Universities around Miyagi," she said firmly, her resolve being carved in stone, her alpha attitude suddenly on high. "My grades will appeal to colleges—I will catch at least one's attention. I'm sure that I will be able to find a sponsor for myself."

"I'm sure you will," her counselor assured her with a small smirk, "Bring it back once you've found one, and it will go into effect next year after you've trained for a while at the University of your choice. Good luck Manner-kun."

Apollonia bowed lowly and stepped out with her paper clutched in her grasp, though not enough to wrinkle.

"What was that all about," a nearby professor inquired, shifting his glasses up on his nose. The counselor made a small noise in the back of his throat, his mouth still cocked in an endeared smirk.

"It looks like Karasuno's Fallen Crows have found someone willing to nurse them back to health."

* * *

She walked in, seeing Sugawara slumped slightly in his seat with his hands placed lightly on his elbows, his chin resting on his desk as he looked over his forearms at the blank chalkboard in front of him. He seemed to acknowledge her presence, because as she stepped further inside the classroom, his eyes had shifted to the wall on his right side, shadowed as his brows furrowed humbly. He was still sore over their loss and detached from anything else but the lingering pain. He didn't want to face her while he was in such a pitiful state.

She leaned over his desk, wordlessly placing the base of the paper lightly on his forearm. He trailed his eye slightly to the side, scanning the page without actually reading it. Though as certain words caught his attention, he straightened up slowly, and studied it, analyzed it, before his eyes shot open. His mouth had dropped, and he was staring at her with an expression that was as amazed as it was grateful.

He struggled to stay composed as his brow creased again, his mouth growing wider and wider as chuckles slipped past. He wasn't ready to believe something so off the wall after decompressing from their defeat.

"You managed to persuade a trial run of having an athletic trainer, for us specifically," he asked, holding the paper in his hands as if it were a fragile piece of silk.

She nodded.

"So, even though we lost, you're still staying in Miyagi for your final year?"

She nodded.

Sugawara nearly burst out in grateful laughter as it finally occurred to him.

"So, you might even go to a University here too?"

She could bear looking him in the eye, seeing him so happy over something so small. But she nodded anyway.

"Thank you, Apollonia-chan," she heard him say. She turned her head slightly towards him, her neck long and her mouth straight. She readjusted her composure, though found it difficult to mask the warmth that suddenly consumed her. She shifted her collar and tugged at her sleeves.

"I'm sorry that I haven't been much help as your training partner and coach," she began, her voice slightly deeper and far more stable than he had heard before, "But, I thought that this might compensate." She plucked the paper lightly from Sugawara's hands, making her way over to her seat. "Next year, I will be able to stand on the court alongside you, but I still will not play."

Sugawara's smile widened. "Ah, that is fine."

The bell rang, prompting both Sugawara and Apollonia to turned towards the front with their hands resting contentedly on their desktops.

Apollonia glanced down at her registration sheet, the sponsor line empty. She supposed she should have felt guilty that she was not able to lead them as she had promised, though as she shifted over to Sugawara, beaming to himself like an idiot, she was not discouraged.

After all, the first thing she had to do before she sent them off to fly, was to mend their wings.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_The next chapter after this one is the last chapter before the present storyline, it is a series of vignettes that depict her interaction with the team after she gains her sponsorship, and little things that contribute to her presence in the story, then after, we shall get to meet the ever precious Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi._

_Bits and pieces of her past with the team will be revealed in sporadic episodes embedded in future chapters._

_I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, feel free to pm me about anything, and have a good night!_


	6. Chronicles

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

* * *

**_Chapter 6: Chronicles_**

* * *

_One Year Before the Storyline_

* * *

_"Learning Finnish."_

* * *

"Hmm, I see," Sugwara mused quietly as he scanned over the pages. The book clearly read, '_Welcome to Finland_,' in bold blue letters against a stark white background, Sugawara only realizing its playful symbolism after he learned that the flag of Finland bore said colors. He was shoved far back in the library, hopefully where none of teammates would find him; because honestly, Kiyoko would probably be the only one to venture anywhere near an area so abundant in books and knowledge by her own free will.

"'Finns do not speak unless necessary, they do not like to spare their words for small talk and idle chatter. They are very direct,'" Sugawara read, sliding his finger across the page. "That makes sense. Good, I thought she just didn't like us," he chuckled quietly, turning the page.

"'The customary greeting is a firm handshake with eye contact, or a nod of the head. Finns are not very physical people, and thus seldom hug or kiss as a greeting. The attitude regarding men and women as equals is quite distinct in Finland, therefore condescending attitudes towards women are rarely tolerated.'"

Sugawara set down the book, scratching the back of his neck. "I wonder if I should try to greet Apollonia-chan in a Finnish manner," he mused, though doing so might just confuse the Finn and halt what she learned about Japanese culture already, that and the mere thought of touching her thin, calloused hand unsettled him.

"Maybe not," he mumbled, flipping a few pages over.

"'Finnish people are modest, and self-conscious, they will often downplay their accomplishments,'" he read, lifting his eyebrow, "So it _is_ a Finnish thing!"

A bit of script caught his eyes, "They admire, 'courtesy and speaking in a moderate tone'? How does she ever stand being around Nishinoya and Tanaka then," he chuckled. He turned a few more pages, before stopping on a few lines, smoothing over a glossy image and small print, chewing on the side of his lip as he brought the book closer towards him.

"The national bird is a Swan?"

He traced his thumb over the image of the waterfowl, his expression twisting in apprehension the more he regarded the bird.

"Sugawara what are you doing?"

"UWAAH!"

"Sh, keep it down you two or you'll be evicted from the library!"

"Sorry, ma'am," Sugawara answered in a whisper, holding his hands up in prayer as the librarian darted back around the corner. When she was efficiently out of sight, Sugawara lowered his hands and nearly recoiled in his seat as he swiveled around to Daichi.

"Daichi, why are you here," he answered in a strained whisper. The soon-to-be captain quirked a grin and pointed to the blue and white paperback that the setter was desperately trying to hide under his school shirt.

"I could say the same to you, that doesn't look like one of our school books."

"Uuehh… I was just… educating myself was all. Can never had to much knowledge regarding other cultures right," he laughed weakly.

"Well, that's true," Daichi hummed in feigned agreement, "but I think the line is drawn at Chinese culture or even Korean culture for us." Daichi swiftly snatched the book from Sugawara's grasp, holding it out and away from him as he read, '_Welcome to Finland_,' loud and clear, earning a hard blush from the setter. "Oh, I wonder why of all cultures, Suga wants to learn about _Finland_, _specifically_," he mused.

Suguwara straightened up, fully prepared to retort with a well-thought out, eloquent answer, though found the words little more than consonants and unintelligible sounds as he tried to grasp for the book.

"You must have had to go to the public library for this, I don't think our school wouldn't carry anything regarding Finnic culture," he mused, opening up the pages and scanning the lines for himself. In an instant, his expression turned to something rather perturbed, "They hit themselves with tree branches?"

"I think it's a cleansing thing," Sugawara shrugged, "they do that in saunas."

"You mean, 'bathhouses?'"

"No, saunas: it's a room where people sit in robes and sweat. They hit themselves with tree branches. I think it has something to do with circulation. Then it says that they jump into ice lakes."

"The Finns are rather strange people, aren't they," Daichi mused, closing the book with a perplexed frown and handing it back to Sugawara. "So, I take it you want to learn more about Apollonia-san?"

Sugawara brought his hands up, "No-No, that's not it, I," he paused, glancing down at the bold, blue typeset printed across the page, scanning the images of smiling, happy towheads riddling the interior, the peculiar architecture and fashion that was represented within the pages. It was all fascinating, and a fair bit enlightening to know that much of Apollonia's behavior was true to her origins, rather than her acting unfavorably simply because they were foreign to her. As well, she was part of such a rich, fascinating culture, and a tumultuous history that he was never even aware of.

It was a funny feeling, having cognizance that other's cultures existed just beyond their walls, open only for the birds and sun in the sky to penetrate those barriers, but never before had he actually engulfed himself in acknowledging that such a culture existed—one that was drastically different than his own. True, people were born unique and had their own distinctive quirks, but this was the first time that he could tangibly feel it, he could feel it right beside him, as if a whole other species previously unknown to him had suddenly taken root next to him, bowed to him, and turned what he knew about culture upside down on its head.

She looked different, she smelled different, she ate differently than they did—though it was not just personal quirks, it was cultural, it was true to her own homeland just as eating with chopsticks and reading from right to left was for him.

As fascinating as it was—he still had a small part of him that felt like it was hiding in the dark, as if he were only strong enough to acknowledge her foreign eye shape and skin color, and nothing more. Despite being in her presence for nearly a year now, the words, 'Finn,' and 'Finland,' had been hammered in his brain more times than he could count—but he realized that he didn't know the first thing about the country. About Apollonia.

He knew Finland was near water and the people had a bizarre manner of speaking, but that was about it. It was like sitting next to a stranger. He couldn't connect to her as easily as he could others, because she was—obviously—not Japanese, there was a barrier that separated them.

"I just feel like I don't know anything about her," he finished. "She's trying her best to learn our culture, so I wanted to do the same."

"So, have you learned anything interesting about Finland, then," Daichi asked.

Sugawara turned to the page that held the bevy of swans, both in flight and wading the glittering waters of the Finnish coast, and creased the edge down as a makeshift bookmark before closing it and gently placing it in his bag. He turned back up a Daichi, offering a small grin before replying,

"Yeah, a little."

* * *

"_Namesake_."

* * *

"Apollonia-senpai?"

Apollonia turned to see first year, Ennoshita Chikara with fellow first years Kinoshita and Narita a step behind, holding their hands behind their backs, their heads slightly lowered. Sparing no words, she waited for them to continue speaking, though there was a beat before the first years realized that she would not verbally respond. Ennoshita straightened up and bowed before her.

"Apollonia-senpai, what does your name mean? We don't really know anything about Northern names."

She craned her neck, a bit abashed coming to terms that the trio of unknown first years were actually making an effort to learn more about her, even if they were just inquiring about her namesake. She scratched the back of her head, blankly staring at the three. They shrunk back uncomfortably, the bit of movement snapping Apollonia back to reality.

"Oh, uh…" she began hesitantly, finding it exceedingly difficult to speak so casually, about herself no less. Small talk was not entirely custom in Finland, especially among people that could be identified as strangers or even vague acquaintances. Though surely it had to be custom in Japan to speak freely and make attempts to converse with others in the hopes of striking a friendship. She cleared her throat, unintentionally startling the three even further.

"Manner can translate to, 'Mainland,' and Eevastiina is Finnish for 'Life or Living, Giving Life'" she clarified, rubbing her elbow as the trio nodded expectantly.

Her mouth shriveled into something akin to amusement, the menial fascination of the first years enough to fuel her voice, even as it came out halted and gauche.

"Apollonia is an homage to the Greek God, 'Apollo,' who was the God of Healing. He has also said to be the patron the sun, carrying it back and forth across the sky. Many birds were sacred to him, two being both the crow and the swan. So even though Greek mythology does not share strong ties with Finnic-Norse mythology, we do in fact admire him for holding those birds so close to his heart."

"That's so cool, Apollonia-senpai," Ennoshita exclaimed, both Narita and Kinoshita humming in agreement. "So the crow and swan are highly valued in your culture," he asked. Apollonia nodded.

"The crows were said to be the bringers of memory and knowledge, while the swan is the holiest of waterfowl. With its long neck, it was said to look over the entire world. It is also said one would suffer a horrible death if they were to ever slay a swan."

The first years flinched, their faces turning unnervingly blue, much to the Finn's chagrin. Realizing her misstep, Apollonia struggled to soften the edges of her statement since apparently the Japanese were not accustomed to the direct nature of her dialogue. Though she stopped herself when Ennoshita's eyebrows rose, stepping forwards slightly.

"So, your name has nothing to do with apples?"

Apollonia shook her head.

"Do apples have any place in your culture," Kinoshita asked. "In Japan, apples are said to represent peace, while the apple blossom represents beauty. What about in Northern culture?"

Apollonia pondered the statement, picking at the nylon hem of her arm sleeve as she looked through the window at the Japanese-born trees outside.

"In Nordic stories, the apple was the fruit of choice for the Gods. It brought eternal life and beauty, and it was also seen as the fruit of rebirth. A way to start anew."

"To start anew," Ennoshita mused, "that's kind of like you, right? You came here to build a new life right? And to help us start again since our old coach collapsed?"

"Well, no," Apollonia began, though as the words Ennoshita spoke registered in her mind, it didn't seem that far off from the truth: she did want to give living abroad another try, in hopes of maybe gaining something more than stares and whispers from her peers around her. Perhaps someone even vague enough to call an acquaintance, even if it was just one, even if they didn't say her name correctly, anything would have been satisfactory. And she was intrigued in the, 'Fallen Crow,' motif that Sugawara had explained to her. She identified with their aspirations, for the first time she actually felt a kinship to them, regardless of their language barrier, regardless of their separate faces and origins. She had fallen on her face the moment she set foot on the track at her middle school, the very track that rocketed her father to stardom. Redemption was more than just a word in her Finnish vocabulary.

"Yeah, I guess so," Apollonia finally concluded.

"That's so cool, Apollonia-senpai," Narita chirped, "We should call you, 'Karasuno's Apple Tree!'"

Apollonia choked on a halted breath, her face a bizarre combination of purple and red.

"No, she should be, 'Karasuno's Healer,' like that guy, Apollo," Kinoshita retorted.

Seeing that Apollonia had withered to nothing more than a gangly, blushing Finnish tree branch, scrunched and holding her arm up to shield most of her flushing head like a swan hiding in her bristles, Ennoshita could not help but chuckle.

"I think Apollonia-senpai needs a cooler nickname than that," he intoned. "If we are the crows, then it would only make sense that she's the swan."

The two other first years nodded vigorously at Ennoshita's musings, all warbling in agreement. Apollonia never was one for being called, 'senpai,' despite the respect it garnered in Japanese culture, so, 'Swan,' at the time didn't seem like such a horrible name to wear. Swans were unisex when looked at with a critical eye: they were strong, and aggressive, all while representing physical and spiritual beauty. Surely it had to be a compliment from her fellow club mates. She glanced down at her right arm, covered in her bandages and passing sleeve, though tingling with a sensation she had never felt before; as if below the surface of her skin, something had ignited in her veins, though it did not manifest as aches or pains.

'_Karasuno's Swan_?'

Maybe she could become accustomed to a name like that.

"The first years seem to be warming up to Apollonia-chan, don't they," Daichi commented, elbowing Sugawara to turn towards the trio and Apollonia as they looked over her, gesturing to her tall stature and pale hair, Apollonia just shrugging back and fiddling with the back of her neck.

Sugawara grinned, "Looks like it."

* * *

_"Marked."_

* * *

"So, this is what you want," he asked, rolling up the sleeves of his black cotton shirt, revealing the lines of skulls, flowers and metaphysical tears painting his arm. He fingered the paper, shifting it vertically, horizontally, bringing it closer and farther away from his face as he looked from the image to Apollonia. He made a noise of acknowledgement and set the paper down on his table, prodding the vials and bottles of ink off to the side.

Apollonia looked to be sweating bullets, a furious pink to her face as she looked at the vicious needle gun gracing his table, and the varying tips that hid under his glass storage case. The man regarded her expression, offering a light, "Don't worry, kid, I'll take care of you," in broken English. Apollonia didn't bother telling him that Japanese was fine. She gulped, rubbing her thumbnail with the bottom of her index finger as she tried to tame her racing heartbeat.

"You got your parent's consent for this," he asked. Apollonia nodded and handed the paper over to him, a copy of her parent's signature that they had mailed solely for the occasion. The man looked over the eloquent note—written first in Finnish by her parents, then translated by Apollonia in Japanese. He hummed and set it aside, rubbing his hands against his distressed black jeans, complete with decorative rips and chains.

"Where do you want it," he asked, "I suggest you don't go near anywhere near bone."

Apollonia nodded, letting out a sharp breath as she pulled the edge of her sweatshirt up over her elbow. She flipped her arm over so that her wrist face facing up towards him. She gestured at the open, pale underbelly stretching from just below the crook of her elbow, down to her wrist.

"Right here," she said.

He pressed against her skin, judging the texture and color, and held the picture next to her outstretched arm. Pursing his lips, he nodded in satisfaction.

"Alright, have a seat kid, this'll take a while."

* * *

"Apollonia-chan, aren't you getting overheated in your sweatshirt?"

She shook her head—despite her ordinarily grey sweatshirt being absolutely drenched and muddy—and wiped the curve of her upper lip with the back of her hand. She glanced down to her wrist, which donned only her thick black brace, though not her accustomed bandages as an effort to let the ink still throbbing in her arm air out somewhat, without cloth or nylon squeezing them. She tugged the hem of her sleeve down, as if she were trying to hide something beneath the cotton.

It wasn't the first time she had behaved in that manner, Sugawara noted a while after she professed that she would return their third year as Karasuno volleyball's trial Athletic Trainer. Even when the weather would teeter on the warmer side, she was fully buttoned, and tugging her hems in place. She assured that her collar was fully covered, and her wrists never met the light of day. Initially, Sugawara had expected that she was just exceedingly modest—a little fact that he had picked up from the myriad of Finnish cultural dictionaries he checked out—but the level of modesty that Apollonia showed had transcended societal norms into realms rather suspicious.

Did she bear a scar, or an odd skin pigmentation that she was self-conscious of—did that have anything to do with the bandages she wore around her arm? She did seem especially tentative whenever she didn't wrap her arm, always cautious just how far up she'd roll her sleeve or extend for something beyond her reach. Whatever it was, it was nagging Sugawara to no end—and though it was intrusive that he was growing so curious as something so menial as what lie beneath her sleeve, the setter assured himself that he would definitely get to the bottom of just what Apollonia was hiding.

One day—thankfully it was excessively hot, on the verge of _scorching_ in fact—and Sugawara once again, for the thousandth time, suggested that Apollonia remove her sweatshirt in order to avoid being burnt alive or at the very least, faint from loss of fluids. Though Apollonia, as clever as ever, had a response ready for him.

"I don't have a shirt," she claimed.

Though Sugawara was not entirely without his own ammunition.

"We have extra shirts, if you'd like."

"Yeah, Apple-san, you're going to die of heatstroke if you keep practicing in that big old sweater," Nishinoya added. Inwardly, Sugawara pumped his fist, gracious that Nishinoya was inadvertently advancing his little scheme. On cue, Tanaka whipped out a large white tee shirt from his bag, holding it out in front of the Finn.

"I was saving this to paint, but you can use it for today," he assured, a little too eagerly.

"Oooh, Ryuu, we should make Apple-san a shirt, one that says, '_White Crow_,' on it," Nishinoya yelled, jumping on his fellow first year's shoulders.

"Noya-san, we should!"

"White Crow," Apollonia inquired, her eyebrow raised in speculation. She held the shirt hesitantly, though eventually turned and made off for the bathroom, still tugging at her hem.

* * *

"Perfect fit, Apple-san!"

"Tanaka, you shouldn't say that to a woman wearing a man's shirt," Daichi scolded with his hands on his hips.

Apollonia—though not exactly offended by his comment—still stood awkwardly in the shirt, her shoulders tense and scrunched near her ears, her arm flush against her stomach as she shuffled towards her bag. She kept her right arm firmly rooted to her body, opening and rummaging through her athletic carrier with her left. Though she tried to not be conspicuous about it, Nishinoya successfully exposed her by calling out.

"Apple-san is something wrong with your arm?"

His voice rattled along the gym, catching the attention of even Asashi who stood at the very end of the court wiping his face with a towel. A miniscule vein appeared in Apollonia's neck as she gritted her teeth, hand still shoved in her carrier, damning herself for burying her sleeves and bandages so far down into her bag.

"No, Nishinoya-kun."

"Then, why are you holding your arm like that?!"

"Shh, Nishinoya, keep your voice down."

Still, Nishinoya persisted and tried to pressure an answer out of Apollonia, pointing to all of his bruises covering his arms from practicing his receives. She regarded the little purple discolorations riddling his arm, turning his wrist slightly to gain a better look. Nishinoya surprisingly kept still under her touch, the feeling of her calloused hands rather frosty despite the horrendous weather.

Though when she unconsciously brought her other hand away from her body to further scrutinize the broken vessels muddying his skin, she flinched, realizing her mistake. Slowly her eyes traveled up his petite arm up to his face, nearly petrified for the ramifications.

Needless to say, his jaw was slacked open—beyond astounded, beyond shocked, beyond any words conservative or abstruse, as if he had seen something unbelievably mystifying for the very first time.

"S-s-ss…"

Apollonia froze.

"SO COOL, APPLE-SAN!"

Apollonia recoiled and fell over on her side, clutching her arm back to her stomach, curling so that the limb was hidden her folded shirt. Nishinoya dived down and straddled the Finn, trying to pull at her arm, though Apollonia proved superior by holding her left hand out against his chest.

"Apple-san, let me see, let me seee!"

"Nishinoya, get off of her," Daichi hollered, ripping the libero off like Velcro.

"But Daichi-san, it's so cool! Apple-san, why didn't you tell us?"

Daichi looked down at Apollonia, only to find her stretching a nylon sleeve over her arm, snapping it in place from elbow to wrist before standing back up on her feet. She brushed herself off, taking off towards Sugawara and Asahi on the other side of the court, gesturing that he toss the ball to her, and uttered not another word.

Daichi, still with a firm hold on Nishinoya, looked down at their libero and asked, "What was on her arm?"

Tanaka too leaned in as they watched Apollonia adjusted her compression socks, tugging on her sleeve as she stuck the ball under her arm.

Nishinoya was more than enthused, wriggling wildly in Daichi's grip.

"Ryuu, her shirt can't say, 'White Crow,' when we make it!"

* * *

"I hope that you weren't offended by Nishonoya today," Sugawara offered lightly, trying to verbally smooth the crease that had marred Apollonia's normally stoic brow. She appeared to still be simmering over being straddled and essentially harassed by a first year barely of average height for a Japanese woman, though by law of her Finnic reserve, she wasn't about to voice her irritation so openly unless provoked. They walked towards the Foothill Store, where Sugawara was hoping that the inhumanly health-conscious Finn would at least indulge him in a calming cup of tea courtesy of the shopkeeper. He often cited her growing frame, now at an impressive one hundred and eighty-three centimeters that was sure to rival even Asahi's stature, as an excuse to treat herself to healthful tea to nourish her brutish height.

Apollonia—her mouth tense and sucked under her teeth—sighed quietly through her nose, flickering her eyes down towards the setter beside her. The sunlight was slowly fading, staining her eyelashes a dirty gold, while his ashen hair had taken a burnt orange hue. Had he not been blessed with the superior eyesight that he had, he could have sworn that merely the trick of light was enough to visually soften her face, but even in a gentle light her face was threatening, whether it be intended or not.

She did not respond to him as they reached the Foothill Store. As she entered, her head slowly swiveled from side to side, taking in the colors of the walls, the products on the shelves, the unnervingly terse-looking man sitting behind the counter with a cigarette dangling off his lower lip. He raised his eyebrow to the two before blowing a ribbon of smoke through his nose, and returned to his newspaper. Sugawara sat at the table near the window, ushering for Apollonia to sit across from him.

"Don't make a ruckus, you two," the shopkeeper warned.

Sugawara nodded and turned to Apollonia: she was rummaging through her bag, pulling out several magazine of what looked to be sport's medicine suppliers, complete with color-coded page markers and little post-its with notes assumedly about the cost and use—assumedly, considering that of course, Apolloia documented everything in Finnish. Sugawara raised his eyebrows, amazed that she was putting so much effort into her position as Athletic Trainer, even if it was just a trial, even when the worst they usually suffered during games was bruises and a bloody nose.

"That's amazing," Sugawara hummed. Apollonia's eyes shot up at him from under her eyelashes, slightly perplexed by his remark. "You really are into this, aren't you, Apollonia-chan?"

Apollonia made a sound Sugawara assumed to be meant as an affirmation, adding, "This is going to be my career."

Slightly taken off-guard by her direct manner of speaking, Sugawara nodded uneasy, muttering, '_Right, right_,' while wringing his hands under the table. Apollonia caught her misstep by being so curt with him, adding lightly, "You should look through these and tell me what would suit you and the others. There are some bright colors of under-wrap in one of these."

Though her small talk wasn't exactly inviting, or even genial enough to be identified as 'small talk,' Sugawara grinned and picked up one of the magazine, flipping though the sections she had not yet marked. The sound of their blistered fingers rubbing and turning the papers, their feet shuffling as they switched their crossed ankles was the only audible sound within the Foothill Store, along with the occasional quiet cough from the shopkeeper.

"I was thinking about getting a cold roller," Apollonia offered, her voice halting and abrasive, a strained look taking her rock-solid face. It was an extremely poor attempt at idle chitchat that she was endeavoring, her eyes dark under her eyelashes, brimming with self-consciousness. She was searching for some sort of solace in Sugawara's face, anything to ensure that her efforts weren't all for not. Sugawara took note of her struggle with defying her Finnic nature, her inherent practice of enduring silence whether the other party felt it uncomfortable or not.

Just that fact that she was not only putting so much energy into her Athletic training, but her social integration as well was enough to put a bright smile on Sugawara's face, even in the dim, indigo nightfall.

"That sounds pretty fair. Did you want to get one of those stick rollers, or these foam cylinders? I'm guessing the ball would be too cumbersome, and knowing the first years, they might mistake it for a volleyball," Sugawara laughed. He reduced his noise level to light chuckles, opening his eyes to see Apollonia wearing an odd expression. It was blank, as if she hadn't initially heard him, though there was softness beneath her skin, even under the odd coloring of the store lights. He went silent, searching for the color peeking from between her white eyelashes as she looked at him, though the longer they held each other's attention, their faces shared an identical pink as they returned to solid ground.

"Hey, you two, shop's closing. So move it or lose it."

"Oh, yes sir," Sugawara answered, gathering the magazines he held over on his side, propping the door open as Apollonia slung her bag over her shoulder.

* * *

"Here are your magazines back," Sugawara offered, "let me know if you need help. I may not be a medic trainee like you, but it never hurts to have another person to look things over."

Apollonia nodded, placing the magazines back in her bag before continuing with her long-legged stride, their steps apparent, though oddly silent. As they made their way down the street, from afar it would have been a humorous sight to behold that even when the air was as black as ink, their pale tresses were the only stain of color that stood out in the nightlight. They walked past a lone street lamp, though Apollonia slowed to a stop underneath, glancing up at the fluttering moths above her head.

Sugawara turned around to see that she was fiddling with the nylon sleeve under her sweatshirt, slipping it down over her wrist and fingers. Sugawara took small, quiet steps towards her—as if he would send her running if he moved any swifter—Apollonia kept her arm firmly at her side. He couldn't see her eyes with the light shining directly down on her alabaster head, though it was not her eyes that he was preoccupied with as she twitched her right hand, bringing it slowly out in front of her.

"This is what Nishinoya saw. I've wanted one since I was younger, my father had one across his back. Initially it was a nod to my culture, but after coming here and meeting all of you, it sort of has taken on a different meaning."

She flipped her arm over, revealing the frail, though immaculately depicted feather stretching from her elbow to her wrist on the underbelly of her forearm. Everything about it was mesmerizing—the downy fluff all the way to the wispy bristles that extended from the stem. Sugawara opened his mouth in shock, unconsciously bringing his hand up to trace the tattoo. Even though it was just ink under her skin, he could feel the gentle silken texture of a true swan feather as if it were not an image at all, but a tangible feather rooted in her arm, like one of a thousand bristles on a wing's skeleton.

Apollonia brought her arm back down to her side, letting her sleeve fall naturally. Though it was just a tattoo, and though its symbolism had changed in the wavering winds between the two continents, Apollonia felt something take hold on her tongue—as if despite her nature, she had become so willing to share such menial conversations with the meek setter before her.

Somehow, she felt contented.

* * *

"_Pain and Healing_."

* * *

It was no secret that Asahi had a powerful spike, something more daunting that the swing of a bear's hand: quick and violent beyond compare. And it was no secret that no matter who was on the receiving end of his swing—whether it be the skillfully- groomed Daichi or the fearless libero Nishinoya—Asahi's spikes hurt worse than anything they had ever experienced.

So it was custom that they expected a fair reaction from Apollonia, the first time she felt Asahi's power first hand: but they just expected her to brace for the impact, receive, then recover, shaking out her arms moments later.

But it paralyzed them when she fell backwards on her hide, gripping her forearm and grinding her teeth as if her wrist had shattered. Asahi gripped the space around his ears, pulling on his swept back tresses until they fell out of his tie.

"Apollonia-san, I'm so sorry!"

He was trembling over her. His hands were out in front of him, vibrating so violently that his whole body had begun to rattle, his teeth clattering. Apollonia had her forehead pressed again her crooked knees, her veins pulsing blue out of her skin the more she tried to hide it.

She gripped her arm, biting down hard until she swore she could hear her molars crack. Her clawed hand covered her face as shockwaves of agony swam down her arm, across her shoulder, through her back, core and hips until it detonated again in her knee. Her breath was quiet but serrated as she shoved her arm against her stomach. Breathing heavily through her nose, her chest hammering underneath her sweatshirt, she fought the urge to start crying right then and there, mortified that she would cause such a scene in front of these people who were supposed to admire her. She was kneeling on the floor, sweating, her body inflamed, while they hovered over her.

She was supposed to be their Athletic Trainer and yet here she was making a fuss at the bruises on her arms. Bruises that she carelessly ignored.

She held her arm out in front of her, finding the sharp, rattling pain had mostly vanished, leaving it feeling like an empty shell. The damned injustice of it all was enough to put a scowl on her face, her lip being sucked in between her teeth as she tried to grasp for the strength she had trained to build up for nearly ten years. Yoga, stretching, strengthening, everything to get her at the prestigious level she had boasted before them, now shattered in front of her with one swipe of his hand.

The tension in her arm was agonizing: she couldn't successfully move anything, her joints like metal on metal, edges sharp and toothed, catching her if she even ventured beyond her reach. Even if by the grace of God she had returned his serve, she's likely not be able to even lift a finger in opposition if it was sent right back at her. She felt worthless, pathetic, so weak before their eyes.

The illusory feathery stared back up at her just lay as a useless image on her arm, a swan's bristle crushed under the justice of gravity. Apollonia rarely bruised and was seldom scarred, but underneath her sleeve her skin was as black and blotchy as runny ink on wet paper. They were broad, purple and ugly against the pale underbelly of her skin. And the longer she stared, the more she found along her legs, until he could feel them on her back, along her fingers, and decorating her ego.

Her heart nearly stopped the more she watched the purple overtake her skin, like a disease, like the haunting realization of failure.

'_I'm sorry, I'm sorry_,' she could hear him say, the words loud like whirring engine.

Yet she felt as though she should have been the one to apologize.

* * *

"Are you okay?"

After Apollonia's display, they quickly wrapped up practice and headed home, though Apollonia took her time walking, leaving the team to surpass her, though Sugawara assured that he'd stay.

"If you don't tell us what's wrong, how can we help you?"

"Do not concern yourself with my medical shortcomings," Apollonia deadpanned, her back suddenly becoming erect with the building agitation in her stomach.

"Hey now-" he reached out to tug on her shirt's hem when she made her way past him, instead accidentally shoving her shoulder, sending a jolt of nerves across Apollonia's arm, making her cringe. "Sorry, sorry!"

Seeing that Apollonia flinched again under his volume, he subdued to his voice to a whisper, leaning in closer to her.

"Are you going to tell me what you mean by, '_medical shortcomings_?'"

Apollonia tensed her jaw for the briefest moment, before she loosened her shoulders, and exhaled.

"I've never had this many bruises," she said simply, though somehow, Sugawara could gauge that she had yet to finish.

"It takes a lot, and I've have bruises from jammed fingers and things like that. But, no one's ever actually caused me to have this many bruises. Asahi-san has a scary spike."

Sugawara grinned wryly, seeing as she wasn't wrong. He too felt the horrible sensation of Asahi's hits. "That doesn't explain what you mean by, 'medical shortcomings,' though."

"Ah," Apollonia acknowledged, "My mother's side carries a very poor bill of health. Arthritic symptoms, weak immune systems, just a dirty bloodline. It is not an illness per se, nothing concrete like that. But it is a lack of health; that's the best way I can describe it."

Sugawara nodded slightly, allowing her to continue.

"There is no actual diagnosis for it, and no real cure, because it itself is not entirely genuine in form. It just means that no matter how much rest I get, my body cannot adequately rebuild itself like yours. The best I can do is stretch, eat healthfully and get over it."

"So that's why you were so out of it," Sugawara posed, though immediately regretted speaking so openly as Apollonia's eyes shot open, bright with humiliation. She stayed silent, staring at the bruises under her wrist.

"So its like sensory overload when you play?"

"Essentially," she deadpanned. Sugawara hummed quietly in response. The two were quiet for some time, a small orchestra of chirping night bugs gracing their overall somber company.

"I don't believe that I have it," she said suddenly, causing Sugawara to perk up with a small, '_Huh_?'

"It's just an excuse to do poorly," clarified, somewhat sourly. To her surprise, Sugawara scoffed: loudly and sharply.

"Just because you're the medic, doesn't mean we can't help you with your own wounds," he chirped, holding up Apollonia's nylon sleeve.

Apollonia reached over to grab her discarded sleeve, until Sugawara callously flipped her wrist, undid a bandaid and placed it over the bruised skin, then set the sleeve gently in her open palm. Apollonia glanced at bandage—a horrid, colorful little thing with dancing kittens on it—then back at Sugawara.

Her mouth had contorted into an odd shape—not quite and smile, though not entirely a frown, yet it bore more emotion than she usually portrayed. She nodded and placed the sleeve in her bag, smoothing out the painted bristles on her forearm.

Somehow, such a gaudy piece of medical tape proved strong enough to loosen the shackles, just a little bit.

Still, Apollonia did not hesitate to mention, "That's not the correct way you treat bruises."

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_So, this is the last chapter posed a year before the present storyline, so next chapter, we will get to meet all of the lovable freshmen: Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi!_


	7. First Years

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

* * *

**_Chapter 7: First Years_**

* * *

_One Year Before the Storyline_

_"Hinata's Bathroom Adventures: Prologue."_

* * *

"Urggh. So. M-many. Scary. People."

Hinata Shouyou struggled to stay on his feet, despite being absolutely overwhelmed by the immaculate amount of overgrown middle school athletes; athletes who, in fact, were probably tall enough to touch the ceiling without standing on a ladder. He had been circling around for a decent while, finishing enough laps to qualify him for a five kilometer relay, eventually earning the intrigue of a certain fair-feathered foreigner.

Apollonia had gone is search of Sugawara, who had gone in search of food and, by her request, coffee, though found herself looping around some off-kilter hallway. She glanced around for any noticeable Japanese sign that would redirect her to the gym, or anywhere else for that matter, but found herself beguiled by the trembling, sweating, and apparently physically ill middle school student limping before her. Not one to be taken by anything below her eye-level, Apollonia couldn't help but stare.

"S-s-scary-y-y," Hinata groaned quietly, not aimed at any giant in particular. He continued lurching along the wall, his hand sweating and smearing across the paint as he struggled to stay upright, holding his stomach in agony. He was grumbling under his breath, cowering slightly when those taller and more intimidating than him would pass him by. Which essentially, was everyone. His heart burst from his chest when some merely one hundred and seventy centimeters walked past him; and here she was, fully grown to the unnatural height of one hundred and eighty-six centimeters, reaching out a still hand to him for condolence. Not surprisingly when their two eye lines met, he immediately froze up, sweating bullets as his mouth struggled to shape trembling words.

"T-T-TAAALLL!"

Apollonia sucked back on her lips, recoiling at his volume alone.

"Are you alright," she managed to ask, despite the violent battle she was having inside, trying to keep her skin color tame as she regarded this shivering frame. But the vibrant hue of his hair and the innocent terror in his eyes was far too pathetic to keep a passive face. He was just so… _heartbreakingly_ _small_, so pathetically fragile, like a trembling leaf barely grown on the stalk of the smallest plant in the most barren garden. He was so small she could probably fit him easily in her bag and just walk right out of the stadium without a second thought.

Apollonia took a deep, quiet breath to expel the idea before she found any gumption on act on it.

Hinata looked up into her unblinking eyes, gulped down something scratchy, and scrunched into what Apollonia assumed to be a fight-or-flight posture.

"U-uggh, mu-mu-mister, where are the bathrooms," he asked, holding his stomach once more as his intestines fully digested his fear and seemed to be rising back up as full blown terror.

Apollonia felt her stoicism slip as she but her lip until it threatened to bruise. She brought her long, bandaged arm up past his head, pointing with an outstretched index finger towards an open turn at the end of the hallway, prodding the air where a sign that read, '_Bathrooms_,' bold and clear at the intersection. Hinata almost missed the gesture in favor of staring at Apollonia's covered arm, entranced to why she looked like a martial arts fighter.

Shaking off the thought, he followed the line of her arm and bolted.

"THANK YOU, SHIRO-SAN!"

Apollonia's face exploded with color as she fully dropped the weight of her head into her open palms. Somehow, even though he was absolutely petrified her, she was both charmed and endeared by his reaction, not that she had any clue to the reason why. Even the horrendous nickname he had given her. Not a moment too soon, Sugawara rounded the corner with two hands of food and drinks, and nudged Apollonia with a bag of crackers.

"What's wrong, did you hit your head on the threshold again?"

Apollonia didn't answer, and only garnered a few stares from passing middle school players as they tried to step around her. Sugawara did his best to move her out of the middle of the walkway with little success.

"Apollonia-chan, pull yourself together!"

But Apollonia was too far-gone. She raised a shaking hand, towards the light as if God would just reach down and snatch her from her mortal frame. It took a while to regain her composure, though Apollonia herself couldn't even eloquently explain why she had reacted the way that she had. When Sugawara asked her what or who she saw, Apollonia just muttered, "Nothing," and left it at that.

* * *

_Present_

* * *

"HRUUGH!"

"Do you think we pushed her too hard, Shimizu," Daichi intoned, holding his head slightly to the side in half-effort to avoid looking directly at Apollonia.

"H-HRU-UGH-H!"

Kiyoko grimaced, shutting one eye and bringing her clipboard up to shield her face as she watched Apollonia's entire body shudder. "I don't think ten laps around the gym in seven minutes was too much to ask," she responded, cringing when Apollonia began violently coughing.

"She did say she was coming back from the flu, so she's not at her top performance just yet," Sugawara commented.

"HHHRRRUUGH!"

Apollonia, the definition of upright and unflappable, was vomiting the entire capacity of her stomach into a large trashcan, with her arms splayed out in front of her over the opposite end of the rim. Half of her body was almost lost in the wide basin as she emptied what little food and bile she had left harboring in her body—with explicit additional sound effects for their listening pleasure, of course.

"Hrrrgh…"

"Is she done?"

They watched as Apollonia did little more than twitch and groan into the trashcan, slung over it like a wet piece of paper. They slowly strode up to her, freezing whenever her back would arch uncomfortably after a sharp lurch. Sugawara proved to bear the bravest heart as he made his way beside her, stepping lightly on his toes as not to startle her. Gently he set his hand on her shoulder, though did his best to avoid looking directly at the horror she had emptied into the bin.

"Apollonia-chan?"

"Uuurrrggh…"

"Apollonia-chan, are you alright?"

Apollonia slowly staggered to a slouched position, holding the rim of her bile reciprocal firmly in her grasp. Dingy sheets and emaciated spirits paled in comparison to her ill, sunken face: her jaw was slack as she fruitlessly tried to breathe through her teeth, one eye blinking a little more solidly than the other, her skin more like the side of a glacier than anything else. She nodded her head weakly, groaning as she forced herself into a more dignified form of standing. Ennoshita and his fellow second year took the liberty of wearing a few surgical masks Apollonia had stashed in her emergency bag, just in case.

Unaware of Apollonia's predicament, Tanaka came sprinting to their side with his arms raised, blatantly ignoring Ennoshita and Daichi's pleas of, '_Tanaka, stop_!'

"Oi guys, let's go get Nikuman after practice!"

"HHHRRRUUUGHH!"

"Dammit, Tanaka!"

* * *

_"Expectations."_

* * *

Upon starting the new school year, Sugawara had taken the initiative to occupy the seat on Apollonia's right—as she had once again chosen her preferred spot by the window facing out towards the luscious greenery and gardens—while Daichi, who joined them in Class Four, sat behind Apollonia, unfortunately only seeing only the top two thirds of the blackboard, the last third being her feathered crop.

Though Apollonia assured that she would not be opposed to switching seats with Daichi, the captain ultimately refused—seeing a perfect opportunity to duck behind her alert stature and thus avoid being the center of attention for especially inquisitive professors. Apollonia only shrugged in response.

It was but a few days after a certain carrot-haired jumper and a certain sour-faced King had royally pissed the ever-authoritative Volleyball Captain off beyond compare, resulting in their own temporary blacklisting from the gym until they could properly act as teammates. Apollonia—much to Tanaka's disdain, as he wanted to immediately challenge her to a game and show her just how high he was able to jump now—was busy with organizing her medical supplies, and typing up essays and spreadsheets.

She was obligated to take excruciatingly detailed notes depicting the team's health—then tracking their journey as they improved and faltered, and how she would apply herself to reverse their descent whether it be prescribing rehabilitation exercises, stretching, massages, fixing their technique, etc. etc. And Apollonia, true to her pensive demeanor, had bought a myriad of notebooks: color-coded and separated by positions, year and skill level: Middle Blockers, Libero, Wing-Spiker, and Setter each bearing their own booklet, along with one large notebook that would house her immediate ideas and thoughts, so that she may record them later in their respective spirals. She even had certain pens dedicated to each book.

Sugawara had to note that despite how nonchalant or dispassionate Apollonia showed to be, she had a certain kind of finesse when it came to meticulous details: especially tedious, unnecessary ones.

So, as Apollonia sat at her desk, her notebooks splayed around her, her index and middle finger smoothing the skin from her lips to her chin, Sugawara took the daring move to break her from her almost impenetrable concentration.

"Apollonia-chan?"

Silence.

"Apollooonia-chan."

Impenetrable.

"Apollonia!"

Almost impenetrable.

She perked her ears, the ends of her eyelashes shifting as they snapped over to Sugawara with a startled blink. He had that trademark grin of his, slightly cocked, his little tear mole high upon his cheek. Apollonia had half a mind to scold him for intruding on her work, but found the engaging quality of his spirit more beguiling than annoying. With a soft exhale of defeat; she faced her shoulders towards the setter, signaling only a portion of her undivided attention.

"We have some interesting first years that want to join," Sugawara tried to mention casually, leaning slightly towards her from his desk. Apollonia hummed, though her assumed interest sounded more feigned than genuine; Sugawara chalked it up to her irritation of being taken from her work, as well as her disdain for small talk. Though even with that in mind, he continued.

"They're both very talented, in their own way," he pressed.

Apollonia simply blinked.

"I believe that with a little bit of help, they could improve themselves substantially before they play their match together with the other first years," he pushed.

Apollonia's brow darkened softly, a gesture essentially stating, '_Please, be direct_.'

"I've been helping one of them out with the basics, and I was wondering if you could help the other one with his technique," Sugawara finally admitted. "Do you remember that setter from Kitagawa?"

"The brooding one," Apollonia deadpanned.

"Yeah," Sugawara answered, "He's the '_genius-type_,' and I thought he would do well under your supervision. I want you to help train him. You could even join me to help as well, the other one is very underdeveloped with his receives."

There was a small beat between the two.

"No."

Sugawara was quickly growing wearied by Apollonia's straight-forward nature—for there were instances in fact where she was possibly _too_ direct. Sugawara held back the urge to throw his head back in defeat and returned Apollonia's cold retort with a breathy sigh.

Catching on that she had apparently either insulted or disheartened the setter, Apollonia released a bit of tension in her shoulders, applying a little more pressure to the edge of her desk. She looked at Sugawara with an expression that was trying its damnedest to seem softer than it was.

"If he is a genius, then he should be smart enough to realize that he needs to benefit himself by first swallowing his pride. You did say that they were banned because they could not act as teammates after all, did you not?"

"Well, yes that was part of it," Sugawara mused, raking his fingers through the small hairs on the nape of his neck. "So, you're saying that he needs to put his talents aside and try to work together with his fellow first year on his own?"

Apollonia slowly nodded, affirming Sugawara's interpretation. She watched as she instigated a firm self-congratulatory gesture out of the setter, apparently praising himself for cracking the proverbial, '_Finnish Code_,' that often left the two simmering in their own separate thoughts. Apollonia arched her eyebrow, slightly lifting her chin and nose to him, quickly humbling the setter with just a minor shift in her face.

"They need to work together on the court, both the brooding one and his rival need to understand that," she noted haltingly, fiddling with the end of one of her notebooks as if she were uncomfortable hearing her own voice.

"Right," Sugawara hummed in agreement, "Now, they are each other's most formidable ally. I'm sure they will be able to bring out something great in one another. They're both really accomplished in their own manner, and the first years they are playing against seem adept in their own right too. Well, they're both tall, at least."

Apollonia regarded his remark with a soft nod, before turning back to her stack of spirals, straightening them, and re-straightening them as if she were calculating the degree rotation and per cubic centimeter of space they occupied.

Sugawara determined it to be an apprehensive fidget, as if to say, '_Too bad I won't be there to see it._'

"Do you still need to go back to the college for further examinations," he finally asked.

Apollonia whipped her head around towards him, appalled that such a meek little setter such as himself could be so perceptive of her inner musings. It was enough to briefly still her with silence, though she eventually found the gumption to speak.

"I'm picking up the last of the medical supplies as well. Once I sift through all of it, I'll start bringing it to practices," she answered.

Sugawara hummed a small note of affirmation, before giving a cordial, '_Hello_,' to Daichi as he walked into the classroom, not but a second before the bell. He took his seat behind Apollonia, questioning the setter what they had been talking about, to which Sugawara explained that he was discussing the oncoming match of the first years.

Daichi chuckled wearily, musing of the troublesome nature of the four—well two, but he did not want to openly chastise specifically Hinata and Kageyama in front of his fellow teammates—and inquired whether Apollonia would be able to make the match. Sugawara noted with a childish frown that she would be ditching them in favor of the University—which instigated a playfully snide reaction from Daichi along the lines of, '_Oh, she's is too good for us high school kids, she needs to go after the college crowd_.'

Apollonia did little but blink forcefully, perking up slightly as Sugawara leaned over again to offer one last statement.

"Try to show up if you can, we'd really like for all the first years to meet you once they're gathered together; we sort of have something special planned if everything goes well," he intoned, Daichi nodding in agreement.

Perhaps it was the identical Cheshire grins painting both the captain and vice-captain's mouth, a sly little expression that forced Apollonia to assume that they knew more than they led on—a crude gesture that ordinarily would not have appealed to Apollonia. Though, she had to admit perhaps, for the first time, she was actually intrigued by the approaching match.

And perhaps, contrasting sharply from last year, she'd be able to profess it.

* * *

"_Reunion._"

* * *

"I sort of wish she was able to see this match. It was something else," Sugawara admitted, holding his arms crossed as he stood next to Kiyoko.

Karasuno's manager lifted her chin, offering a soft nod.

"Apollonia told me that the college wanted to prep her as much as they could before she started helping out," she said quietly, averting her eyes towards the court, taking in the beguiling sight that was their newly inducted first years.

While Hinata was running around like the bull-headed spitfire that he was, Kageyama was trying not to look too comfortable in his new club uniform, Tsukishima was holding the fabric out in front of him as if it would get him dirty, though Yamaguchi seemed to be more intrigued by the extra jacket lying at the bottom of the box.

An extra jacket? Surely their elders had anticipated only _they_ would be receiving their ticket into the Volleyball Club, so why would one lonely jersey rest at the belly of this simple, cardboard box? It was rather large, suited to fit someone of Tsukishima's frame or even taller, though there was not another beanstalk to be found.

Yamaguchi held up the jersey to his fellow teammates and inquired, "Why is there an extra jacket? Was there supposed to be another first year joining?"

Hinata ceased his running around and sprinted up to the out held jacket. Upon the immaculate size of the clothing, his eyes nearly popped out of his head, and his hands rose towards the object laying limp in Yamaguchi's arms.

"Whoa! It's _huge_; this person must be like a walking skyscraper! They're probably even taller than Tsukishima!"

Hinata spun around to Daichi and Sugawara, "Who does it belong to, is he a first year like us," he asked.

A flash of recognition flashed across Tanaka's eyes, before he too was inspecting the jersey with his knee fully extended out in front of him, his hand cupping his chin.

"No way, Daichi-san, Suga-san! Did you really get _her_ a jacket?!"

_Her_?

A snapping of necks became audible as all four first years whipped around to face their captain.

Daichi felt the unnerving urge to take a step back as his new first year kouhai looked at him with tepid stares—wondering both why someone who was not even present, who did not even participate in the three-on-three match was receiving the emblem of Karasuno's Volleyball Club, and why said person was a _woman_.

A small bead of sweat slipped down Sugawara's cheek as he broke out in a toothy grin, scratching the back of his head.

"Well, I did promise her a jacket in exchange that she started training exclusively with us this year."

"Who are you guys talking about," Hinata cheeped as he stood swiveling between Daichi and Sugawara, eyes wide with bemusement. "Who's this lady you're talking about? Is she one of your girlfriends?"

Both Daichi and Sugawara paled, flushing brightly as they both held out their hands in a halting manner before shouting, "NO," in a spotless harmony. Tanaka was not shy as he burst out in gut-wrenching laugher, going so far as to fall on the floor and actually hold his stomach while writhing madly around like an upturned beetle. "Girlfriend! Girlfriend, he says!"

Hinata just stood between them, wondering why his elders were suddenly so timid just by discussing this one woman—who had to be _ginormous_ if she could sufficiently fill out the jacket Yamaguchi was still holding out awestruck in front of him.

Kageyama had altogether given up on following the brainlessness of Hinata as well as the suddenly flustered demeanor of his superiors, though the lurking suspicion of who exactly this person was still prodded at him. How could a woman of all species just be given a jacket without even being part of the team? What, was she a fellow manager, or a younger sister of one of the third years, did she prefer unnaturally oversized sportswear—because honestly, what person other than Tsukishima would actually be able to fill out what looked to be about four or five yards of fabric?

Kageyama glanced at the jacket, the flustered third years, Hinata holding the jacket up to his shoulders, commenting how it could be worn like a yukata on his own frame, to an obviously irritated Tsukishima, Tanaka still laughing, and back to the jacket.

"Well who is this person, and why is she getting a free jersey?"

Tanaka slipped an arm around Kageyama's shoulder and held the jersey tenderly in his arms if the aforementioned woman herself had suddenly materialized in its frame.

"Who is she? _Who is she_?! This ordinary jacket belongs to none other than Apple-san! Or to you lowly first years, 'Karasuno's Swan,' so you better watch yourself when handling it."

"She doesn't like that name, Tanaka, you already know that," Ennoshita commented, grunts of affirmation from both Daichi and Sugawara.

"APPLE," Hinata exclaimed loudly. "Her name is '_Apple_?!'"

"Is Swan-san really a houseplant," Tsukishima inquired with a small grin, decorated by Yamaguchi's quiet chuckling.

"Her name is Apollonia, and she's actually an international student from Finland," Daichi started.

"She's pretty knowledgeable, but you might have to excuse her if she speaks a little odd. Her Japanese is pretty dated," Sugawara added.

"_Finland_," Hinata hummed, "So cool! Where is that, is that in America?"

Daichi and Sugawara sighed in unison, bearing strained smiles as they gritted their teeth in effort not to groan.

"No," Sugawara began wearily, "Finland is country far north, it's next to Russia and Sweden."

"Oh," Hinata nodded understandingly, "what language do they speak there?"

"Finnish."

"Mhmm, mhmm," Hinata mused as he continued nodding before straightening back up with a jolt, "The North is famous for Vikings, right?! Those big guys carrying axes and swords and ride bicycles?!"

"How does he know what a Viking is, but he didn't know what language a Finnish person spoke," Tsukishima noted with a heavy frown.

"Hinata, you idiot, they don't ride bikes," Kageyama interjected with his hands thrown up in the air.

"But I thought that's why they were called, '_Vikings_!' Because they have cool bikes!"

"Those are two completely different words, you dumbass! They're irrelevant to one another! They rode birds!"

"Wha?!"

"How did the both of them pass their entrance exams," Tsukishima mumbled, rubbing his fingers across his temples upon the building volume between idiot 'A' and idiot 'B,' also known as Hinata and Kageyama.

Hinata, with the jacket still firmly in his grip, held it up and ask, "So where is she, are we going to meet her?"

"Maa-a-a-a," Tanaka waved, "Apple-san is recovering from the flu, so she is going to come back any time she wants. It's funny, she's supposed to be our medic, yet she's the one who gets sick the most," he chirped.

"That's not something to sound so prideful about," Sugawara commented.

Hinata tilted his head, "Medic?"

"She's still a student and she's been authorized to be an Athletic Trainer," Kageyama stated evenly, though slightly taken back with disbelief.

"Suga wasn't lying when he said she was, 'knowledgeable,'" Daichi mused.

"Whoooa," Hinata cooed, "Apple-senpai sounds so cool! I want to meet her, I want to meet her! Kageyama, don't you want to meet her?!"

"Don't get so excited, dumbass, she's just probably going to be on the sidelines to check for concussions, which only applies to an idiot like _you_."

While the two continued to bicker, much to the misfortune of Daichi as he tried to break them apart and quiet both of them down before they caused any more trouble, a small creaking sound resonated throughout the gym, and from the far side, an alienesque creature of towering stature had entered out of the beaconed afternoon light smelling of very strong menthol rub and cough medicine. Apollonia's strides were long and nimble as she made her way down the court towards the furthest wall, setting her bag down, removing her school's button-up before replacing it with her accustomed Stanford sweatshirt. She undid her skirt and neatly folded it over her bag, shifting the bottom of her athletic shorts that rested underneath to a more comfortable length with an audible 'snap.' She swiftly slipped her compression socks on, tugging the hem high over her thigh, then slid the pads firmly over her kneecap, flexing her shin as straightened back up to her full, one hundred and eighty-six centimeter stature.

Not realizing that while she was completing her ministrations, improperly of course, considering she didn't adhere to changing in her homeroom as she was obligated to do, the entirety of the volleyball team had gone eerily quiet. Perturbed that such an intimidating looking creature could just waltz right in without announcing herself, change in broad daylight, and continue on as if merely a cloud had passed by.

She looked up to find them staring at her, profusely confused, until Tanaka shot forwards with his arms thrown over his head.

"APPLE-SAAAN!"

"That's her," Tsukishima asked, eyebrow raised as Apollonia side-stepped to avoid the flying wing spiker.

"As quiet as ever, Apollonia-san," Daichi chirped, pulling back Tanaka and subduing him in a firm chokehold.

"It's good that you're here, you didn't get to miss the surprise," Sugawara hummed. Apollonia tilted her neck, slightly bemused by what, '_surprise_' the setter and team could possibly offer her. She walked towards the setter, who held his arm out, gesturing towards the four newly inducted members.

"Everyone, this is Manner Apollonia. Apollonia-chan, These are the latest first years," Sugawara clarified, not without adding, '_Just bow to them and use the suffix –kun_,' under his breath.

She was introduced to the ever blasé Tsukishima, who regarded her lightly, despite being obviously perturbed that she proved true to her jacket size, nearly meeting him in stature. Yamaguchi chuckled faintly, bowing meekly to her, and nearly imploded as she addressed him with an airy, '_Yamaguchi-kun_.' Sugawara led her over to Kageyama and Hinata—who still looked to be conserved in amber with a look of complete shock painted over his face.

"This is Kageyama Tobio."

She bore down on Kageyama with an unswerving stare—and though her demeanor was not intentionally intimidating, Kageyama could not help but feel uneasy being in her sights. Despite being known as the, 'King of the Court,' for the first time in a while, he felt incredibly small. He could see her mouth moving, though the words felt delayed as they hit him square in the stomach.

"Hello, Kageyama-kun."

He found his face unnaturally hot for the air-conditioned gym, unable to accept that his skin was generating enough heat to boil a pot of water. Kageyama pretended to ignore Tsukishima's snide comment of, '_The great and mighty King is flustered by Swan-san_,' and turned his head to Hinata, who looked as if he wanted to jump straight into Apollonia's arms, but lacked the bold audacity to do so. Regaining his poise, he turned to her and bowed.

"Hello, Manner-"

"SHIRO-SAAAN!"

Kageyama was flung backwards as Hinata threw himself to the floor face first with his arms splayed out in front of him, his knees curled under him in what was assumedly a full-body bow.

"Please forgive me, Shiro-san," Hinata cried against the court floor, bringing himself back up and meeting face to face yet again, the daunting creature he had encountered merely a year prior—still boasting those terrifying crystal visors, that immaculately bright hair, and bony, unflinching face. This was the very terrifying, immaculate, bony person that he had callously assumed to be male, though now, here she was appearing before him like some haunting spirit, reborn as a woman.

Apollonia faired no better in composure as she too came face to face with a very unnerving presence from her distant past.

"Hinata Shouyou," he shouted without even needing Sugawara's introduction.

Trying to repent for his horrible impression he had shown to her merely a year prior, he bowed as low as he could to her, almost touching his curling locks to his knees as he squeezed his fists at his side in self-restraint. Like a pop-up toy, he snapped back up with a nervous smile and held out his thin, little arm to the Finn as a gesture towards her Northern heritage, though it was profusely shaking and sweating.

"I-it's nice t-to meet you again, Sh-shiro-san—I mean, Senpai—I mean, Apple-sensei—I mean—

"Apollonia, you dumbass," Kageyama murmured, causing Hinata to jolt.

"Ah-ah-pp-ppl-pleo-"

"Apple-san, are you alright?"

"Apollonia-san?"

Both Daichi and Tanaka watched as The Finn's face puckered into a serrated frown, her brow trembling, the color of her eyes growing manic, as if her heart were beating straight through her chest out in front of her, bleeding and pumping in her open palm.

Hinata—terrified that he had either insulted the towering Finn, or somehow frightened her—ran up to her lurching frame. He took note of her searing skin and sickly posture and assumed that her flu was coming back full force. He quickly grabbed a towel and water bottle and held it up to her, more than eager to please his senpai.

"Apple-senpai, you're overheating!"

"Oi, Hinata, you're making it worse," Daichi called, tugging the boy back.

"Oh no, not again."

Accustomed to their current predicament, Sugawara rushed around and held Apollonia up under her arms, swiftly jerking to the right so that her scalding and flustered feathered head could fit comfortably on his left shoulder as she collapsed in his grip. She uttered a strange gurgling sound, as if her throat were being strangled by bile and venom. Immediately, Sugawara froze.

"No no no, please don't throw up!"

"Apple-senpai is sick, someone call a medic," Hinata cried, running around in circles. Tsukishima rolled his eyes in a wide circle.

"I thought she _was_ supposed to be our medic."

Daichi rubbed his forehead is effort to rekindle his waning patience as Hinata tried to grasp for Apollonia's sleeve—which almost forced both she and Sugawara to the ground—while Tsukishima stood off to the side, a thick scowl worn on his face as he struggled to believe that this klutzy tow-head was supposed to be Karasuno's so-called '_swan_,' while Tanaka apparently whispered something into Kageyama's ear, causing the young setter to jerk back, and yell out, "_Apple-nee-san_," in confusion.

"Kageyama, don't call her that! Hinata, don't come near her!"

"She's as absurd as the rest of them," Tsukishima scoffed, unable to tear away himself away from watching what could only be described as a train wreck of idiots.

"You don't think she's kind of cool," Yamaguchi mused.

He shrunk back as Tsukishima offered a look that need no words other than, '_Shut up, Yamaguchi_.'

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Oh and the whole Hinata getting tripped up with Vikings and bikes, it's because the two sound the same.: 'Baikingu' (Biking) versus 'Viking,' which can sound like, 'Vikingu.'_

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter, t__hank you for all the new reviews, favorites, and follows, you guys are the best, you lovely bunch of angels! It warms my heart all cozy and fuzzy to know that people are actually reading this wee little story of mine! Feel free to review or PM me about anything!_

_Good night/day!_


	8. Kiitos

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

* * *

**_Chapter 8: Kiitos_**

* * *

"Apollonia-san, you missed a really great game between the first years," Ennoshita commented once she had finally pulled herself together.

"And of course _I_ was there too," Tanaka boasted with his chest jutting out.

Apollonia, however, had forgone stroking Tanaka's ego in favor of gratefully taking the Karasuno jersey from a still-flustered Hinata and slipped it around her shoulders over her sweatshirt, snapping it sharply in place. Seeing that she wouldn't go through the motions of spinning around and making a grand scene of her own personal jersey, Sugawara and Daichi took the liberty of praising the fit, Hinata following suit and nodding his head vigorously. He ran around her, stopping dead in his tracks as his eyes fell on something that had for some reason had gone overlooked, something that suddenly appeared before him like a flashing neon sign.

"Apple-senpai, you have something written on your back!"

Apollonia immediately whipped the jacket off and held it out in front of her, twisting it and turning it until she noticed just exactly what he was referring to. She turned to who she assumed to be the culprits: and found Sugawara grinning stupidly, while Kiyoko pursed her lips and looked off to the side. "It was a last minute thing," Sugawara defended, "I thought it would make it official, so I asked Shimizu to add it on."

As if being the tallest one in the room wasn't already attention-grabbing enough.

Apollonia glanced down at the bold letters spelling out, 'ATHLETIC TRAINER,' across her shoulders, above, 'Karasuno's Volleyball Club.' It was not the words that had thrown her for a loop—having such a moniker emblazoned on her back was to be expected since she was supposed to separate her image from that of the Regulars. No, what actually caught her attention was the little white swan emblem separating the two portions of writing. An emblem that likely would not be allowed on her back as it would be deemed unprofessional. She'd likely have to buy a second jacket without the emblem less she get the club in trouble.

Again, she looked up at Sugawara—still smiling—and Kiyoko—still avoiding eye contact.

Returning her attention to the cloth, she let out a long sigh and returned it across her shoulders, instigating a small chuckle from Sugawara and Daichi.

"The Japanese way to respond would be saying, '_It can't be helped_,' Apollonia-san."

Apollonia arched an eyebrow at the captain to make it known that the situation in fact could've been helped if Sugawara and Kiyoko had not conspired against her in the first place. Though, the endearing squeal of a certain little first year had jolted her forwards and halted her from reprimanding the both of them.

"Apple-senpai, that's so cool, that way everyone knows you're, '_Karasuno's Swan,_' right?"

Apollonia glanced around to find Hinata a bit too close for comfort near her back, staring wide-eyed at the swan symbol in the middle of her spine. The second years flinched as she turned back and threw a rather stern expression at them; as if to say, '_I told you not to put weird thoughts in the first years' heads_.' Ten minutes into her arrival, and already had Apollonia managed to make a horrible first impression among the first-years.

A small hand tugged on her hem. Apollonia turned back around to see Hinata in a waist-bow, snapping up with his chin and chest held high towards her. She regarded him with a somewhat stunned frown, recoiling a bit when he struggled to stutter out a coherent sentence, a warbled, "Senpai, please teach us!"

Shifting towards Sugawara and Daichi, she lifted her chin in recognition after they whispered, '_He probably wants to see you play._'

The word, 'No,' had settled on the tip of her tongue, but she made no motion to actually say it herself. Though she didn't want to play, she allowed herself to be dragged out by Hinata onto the court, ignoring the sour turn her stomach took.

* * *

"HRRUUGH!"

"Oh no, not again."

True to Apollonia's—literal—gut feeling, it was not even a minute into Hinata haphazardly trying to get her to join their practice before a wave of nausea washed over her and forced her to sprint for the nearest trashcan, nearly falling in headfirst as she wretched.

"I guess she's not truly over it just yet," Daichi grimaced.

"Hang in there, Apple-san," Tanaka assured zealously, though far enough away to ensure that he would be a safe distance away from her convulsing body. Sugawara proved to be the only one able to stand next to her while she profusely vomited, hesitantly patting her back as she emptied what was left of her interior organs into the trashcan.

"Apollonia-chan, are you sure you're all right," Sugawara asked, stretching the hem of his shirt over his mouth and nose just for good measure.

A small gurgle before she groaned, ".. t-tomorrow."

"Get better, Apple-senpai," Hinata cried, suddenly appearing in front of her as she hung over her trashcan. "I want to show you my jump!"

Daichi watched as Apollonia repeated the entire process of purging with Sugawara trying to shoo away Hinata before he caused her even more turmoil. Ignoring his Vice Captain's orders, Hinata crouched meekly at her side, waiting for her to reappear from the trash bin. Kiyoko rummaged through Apollonia's bag for any medication or sanitary wipes as the rest of the team slowly eased into a feeling of normalcy again.

"I'm surprised that she's so lively today," Daichi noted, eyes still trained on Hinata hovering over Apollonia and Sugawara.

"This is lively," Kageyama mused, an identical look of suspicion shared by both Tsukishima and Yamaguchi as well. The girl was waist deep in a trashcan vomiting her weight in filth, and really looked no more athletic than an emaciated tree branch, and _this_ was _lively_?

Daichi could understand how the circumstances pained a rather different picture for the first years, and only waved off the comment seeing as Apollonia was a peculiar character that he could not adequately describe all in one sitting. They settled for waiting around as Apollonia's wrenching finally came to an end, their attention turning as the club doors slid open as a bespeckled man jogged on through. He waved around a handful of papers, a smile readily worn on his face.

"We're competing," he exclaimed, "It's all set up!"

The club members—those who were not currently throwing up in a trashcan—turned around to see Club Advisor Takeda Ittetsu scrambling onto the courts towards him, fixing the papers in his hands so stat he could properly explain himself.

Daichi's eyes widened. "We're competing, really?"

Takeda nodded furiously. "A practice match! The opponent is one of the prefecture's best four: Aobajousai High School."

"Aobajousai," Sugawara exclaimed, though trying not to yell too loudly with Apollonia's sluggish body propped up against him for support. "How did you manage that?"

"Aooubajouu…" Apollonia groaned while struggling to stand upright.

"They're a really good school," Sugawara assured quietly to a blank, blinking Apollonia as he gave her a slightly damp handkerchief to wipe her face. "Seijou."

"Please don't tell me you kowtowed again, sensei," Daichi said wearily. Takeda shook his head and opened his mouth ready to retort, though paused when a few foreign faces caught his eye.

"Oh, you two must be the problematic Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun," he aimed towards the first years—earning a somewhat chastised expression from the both of them. He turned towards Apollonia, a bit perturbed just by the immaculate height of her as he adjusted his glasses. The other professors had warned him that she was tall and rather unseemly, but he never actually took into account how accurate they were. Were girls allowed to exceed the height of normal thresholds?

"And you must be our trial Athletic Trainer, Apollonia-kun," he exclaimed cheerily. "I am saying it correctly, am I? Apollonia-kun?"

Apollonia nodded before bowing respectfully, bringing herself back up to her full, upright stature. "You're Mister Takeda," she asked before Sugawara nudged her slightly, "I mean, Takeda-sensei?"

Takeda nodded with a smile and answered, "Yes, starting this year, I'll be the Volleyball Club's Advisor, it's a pleasure to meet all of you." He pulled out a piece of paper that looked to have been folded over several times, and snapped it sharp.

"Now, back to the match. I should warn you that there is one condition that Aobajousai agreed on: they told me that they will only play if, 'Kageyama-kun will act as the setter for the entire game.'"

Tanaka sneered and rolled up his sleeves, shaking his fists at the intangible figures of the Aobajousai coach and Regulars in front of him. "So what, they're not interested in Karasuno, they just want to guard against Kageyama? What, are they mocking us? I'll mock _them_," he growled. He held up his fisticuffs, ready to fight before he was quickly yanked back by Daichi, with Takeda trying to quell him with a timid laugh.

Apollonia glanced over at the ashen setter, taking note of the somewhat sullied expression that had stilled him, turning her shoulder slightly towards him in effort to grab his attention. Sugawara offered a side-glance to her, recognizing how odd her inquisitive expression was against her hard, unblinking face—for someone who always looked so sure of everything, it had taken Sugawara off his guard to see Apollonia sharing an expression that was just as unsure of his own.

Tanaka verbalized the unspoken question shared between them with substantially greater animation by grabbing Sugawara's shoulders, though the setter gently brushed him off. "I want to see how good Kageyama and Hinata's attack will be against one of the top four," he claimed.

Apollonia raised her eyebrow, meeting Daichi's identical stare of skepticism before their expressions returned forwards. Daichi turned towards Takeda.

"Sensei, please give us the details."

* * *

_After Practice_

* * *

There was a way that he stood when he seemed discontented about something: it was a slight slump of his shoulders, an almost unnoticeable curve of his back, his neck bent as if it had been weighed down significantly. Though his body would unwind, it was far from relaxed; he'd rub the back of his head, manifesting a nagging thought he was holding for himself, too timid to profess it on others.

It wasn't that she knew him, or was accustomed to his personality—that would have been an arrogant assumption on her part to hold herself so highly that she'd actually believe that she was of any importance to Sugawara, or knew anything about him other than his setting prowess—but she was in fact accustomed to the human body.

During her studies, she not only read over the human anatomy and its components, but its reactions as well—it delved from everything to how an athlete's body would react under pressure: the heartbeat, the brain, the release of stress hormones, all the way to how an athlete's body would eventually succumb to either injury or illness because of the long term effects of their unconscious ministrations.

And before her, right now, Sugawara was eventually going to suffer neck problems if he held his head any lower, shin splints if he kept shuffling in that hesitant manner, and a throbbing headache is his brow did not cease to furrow in thought.

Needless to say, as Karasuno's dutiful Athletic Trainer, Apollonia felt obligated to speak up as they made their way down the hill towards the Foothill Store.

Apollonia lengthened her stride, stepping one pace ahead of him, turning her face to lock him in her peripheral, so that she may politely refer him to a delightful list of oils for aromatherapy. A gentle soul like Sugawara could use something relaxing like lavender, or if she wanted to appeal to his brighter side and perhaps lift his spirit—thus lifting his chin and chest thereby avoiding his inevitable neck ache and headache—she would offer him a vial of lemongrass or even bergamot.

But as she looked down at him from her tremendous height, it was not his slouched posture and dour demeanor that suddenly muted her.

If at all possible, even his hair seemed to droop slightly, the ashen color a little less healthy, and a little drier than it ordinarily seemed. Surely the human body could produce such effects at that rapid of a pace. But even with that in mind, his youthful Japanese face seemed to look older, like a jaded young man wandering aimlessly down the street. A small hopeless ragamuffin with a hole in his sock and blisters on his feet. It very well could have the trick of light as well, in the dimming sunlight, but Apollonia was not as accustomed to optics or the vast realm of color psychology. But somehow, even when Sugawara noticed her so closely at his side, he picked himself up, exuding a false sense of self—though the betraying signs of endless rumination were swimming in his eyes, even as they met her own.

And even with his body both inwardly and outwardly screaming that he was still mulling over the idea of Kageyama taking his spot—that he clawed tooth a nail in his own to gain—he was able to grin up at her, his little mole at the corner of his cheek lifting. Her eyebrow arched as she fruitlessly tried to decipher the conflicting reactions of his body—because surely if she could not adequately analyze him, then he would likely suffer an injury that had callously slipped past her, because she was so distracted by his misleading smile—then she would definitely have failed in her position as Athletic Trainer.

Truly, it was quite the conundrum for her; though on the other end, Sugawara proved to be a little less assuming, and a little less pretentious.

Apollonia may not be very generous with words, but Sugawara had a pretty decent idea what she was trying to converse with her expressions. Despite the unnatural sense of poise and character Apollonia prided herself on wielding, deep down—way deep down, far into the calcite caverns hidden within her body—Apollonia did seem to have feelings, however vague and ephemeral they proved to be.

And the fleeting emotion she was currently pulsing towards him, he recognized as, '_worry_.'

Whether she was worried over his health or his conflicted opinions was rather obsolete in his mind. The only thing that honestly mattered was that even though Apollonia didn't need to concern herself with whatever was going on through his mind, she still managed to care—in her own, odd, 'Apollonia,' way.

It didn't have to be anything more than momentary concern, there in an instance and suddenly gone; because he had seen it, and was willing to accept it wholeheartedly.

He couldn't help but grin, because a myriad of theories and assumptions were probably building in that large, foreign brain of hers regarding his mental health after learning that Kageyama would be placed as the setter the entire game.

Knowing she lacked the eloquence to express her conjectures openly at that point in time, he settled for changing the topic entirely.

"Are you excited to attend a match with us? I know it's just a practice, but I hope that you'll have fun."

Apollonia raised an eyebrow at the boy, before offering a slight nod.

Inwardly she had deduced that his chipper attitude would most likely falter if she gave him lavender, reverting him to a state of melancholic nostalgia or something of the sort, and thus pulled out a bottle of lemongrass from her medical bag. She held out the vial towards him, gesturing that he take it.

"It is an energizer—a 'pick-me-up,' I guess you could call it. Your posture implies that you need one."

Sugawara chuckled, handing the vial back to Apollonia. '_Classic Finnic candor at it's finest._'

Apollonia still kept her eyes on the lemongrass, unable to let him hand it back so easily. Seeing that he was likely not to win their little battle as he thought he would, Sugawara countered with an attempt to catch her off her guard.

"Will you say something for me in Finnish?"

Apollonia just looked at him, as if to say, '_What_?'

Sugawara nodded his head, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I want to learn a little Finnish, maybe I'll pick up an accent like yours," he stated lightly.

Apollonia snorted at his audacity, quickly hiding the break in her even face with her hand still holding the lemongrass. She looked over at him, lifting her chin as if to say, '_what do you want to know_?'

"How do you say…" Sugawara lifted his head towards the sky, "Volleyball?"

Ah, of course. Apollonia nodded lightly, before clearing her throat and responding, allowing her native accent to fully take over.

"Lentopallo."

Sugawara straightened and braced himself, putting on his best Finnish yodel. "Rentyo-pahlldo?"

"Lentopallo. Try not to roll the 'l,' at the end."

Sugawara nodded again before asking, "So then, how would you say, 'I like volleyball,' in Finnish?"

Apollonia arched her eyebrow lightly as she responded, "Tykkään lentopallosta." She paused before adding, "Or, minä tykkään lentopallosta can work too."

"Saa, that sounds a little too advanced for me, Apollonia-chan," Sugawara noted with a small chuckle, waving his hand weakly as if he were wafting her accent away. She was quite bemused by his reaction towards her native language: he looked at her with such awe, yet the rappings of her tongue like a snake's hiss, or a cat's purr was second nature on her part. She exhaled softly through her nose before turning forwards, offering him a small retort.

"Kiitos."

* * *

_One Day Before The Practice Match_

* * *

Sugawara and Apollonia leaned over the railing of the clubroom, watching Hinata scramble out in sweats two sizes too large for him.

"He put his jacket on like a pair of pants," Sugawara noted wearily.

"Something like that was fashionable once, in Finland," Apollonia added offhandedly. Sugawara quietly chuckled until a realization hit him, snapping his eyes open.

"Apollonia-chan, did you just make a joke?"

Apollonia glanced over at the setter as if she were somewhat offended by his exclamation. "I'm entirely serious," she deadpanned.

Sugawara flinched, fearing that he might have actually insulted her—and the peculiar fashion of Finnish youth—and rubbed the skin on the back of his neck.

"Right, r-right," he began, "I just thought you were trying to diffuse the tension or something. Everyone seems to be a little nervous right now."

Apollonia looked down on him with a glazed over expression, not even realizing that the air that had blanketed them was in fact rather thick and heavy: despite the fact that Hinata was running around in Tanaka's pants, with Tanaka trying not expose himself as he chased after the boy. Even Kageyama seemed on edge in his own, passive manner: simmering about something deeply rooted within him, something strong enough to barely mute Hinata's loudly squalling cries. Among the other players there had been a stagnant smell in the air that quieted even the snide remarks of Ennoishita whenever Tanaka was slapped by the girls' tennis captain. And she hadn't picked up on any of it.

Somehow, Apollonia was disheartened by her own ignorance.

She had never participated in competitive sports, not with a club, not even by herself; thus she was not accustomed to feeling the pressure of facing one of the top four schools in the prefecture with a motley crew of volleyball misfits to call her teammates. Her tenacity could not bring her to the same level as Sugawara, as Daichi, Tanaka or any of the other volleyball players. They were facing a wall much greater than hers, and far more threatening. She could feel all of the agonizing stabs and jolts in the world, but it would not bring her any closer to the people she was unworthy of describing as her, '_friends_.' She had come to terms that one of her greatest downfalls was her lack of empathy.

It was but a simple emotion, yet it separated her from them. Without even speaking, she felt as though she was lost in translation, trying to understand the emotions whirling through them, though she ultimately found herself just staring at them: blankly, stupidly. She could waft her hand, regarding it as little more than, 'Japanese customs,' but it wasn't: in Finland, she often heard people from varying sports teams professing their jitters and anxieties, humming and musing in a unified chorus of their worries and woes.

In theory, she could just repeat their words verbatim, thus faking it, and thus thoroughly tarnishing the value of authenticity, but Apollonia was not clever or gifted enough to falsify such a reaction. Empathy was supposed to be universal, so how did she miss out on it?

It made her heart pound, to know that she could not relate to them as she so desired—the most she could feel being the stress on their bones, the feeling of their muscle fibers ripping apart at the seams with every leap and swipe. Within her own body, she could feel her lungs contracting, her blood pulsing wildly in reaction to her own self-critical ruminations, and found that as bold as her inner workings had proven to be, she could not quell her outward reactions.

"Apollonia-chan, are you nervous too?"

She had a white knuckled grip on the railing, her fingers wrapped tightly around. What could she possibly be nervous about? She wasn't the one with her toe on the line and her front bared for battle—she had no reason to be anything but impassive.

"It's kind of exciting, isn't it," he mused with a wide smile, "it's your first game."

"I'm not playing."

"Neither am I," he retorted casually, "But you can feel it, can't you, the adrenaline? It's exhilarating."

Apollonia looked down at her hands, loosening her grip in order to return her skin's hue back to normal. It was true: her heart was racing, but not in anticipation for the match. Her heart was racing, because she felt shut out and completely torn from the people she had been privileged enough to bear a relationship with, regardless of the title. For once, she had felt more than just, '_That Boy/ Girl_,' to someone, yet all over again she felt herself wasn't exhilarating, it was unsettling.

"Apollonia-chan?"

She lightly pushed herself away from the railing, and let her arms drop against her side. Her neck jutted a bit forwards, regarding the first and second years as they made their way off beyond the clubroom. She could feel Sugawara keeping a soft eye on her from his peripheral, his forearms still resting against the topmost metal bar.

"You've been there," Apollonia started, verbally gesturing towards the volleyball court, "You know how they feel. I don't."

Sugawara raised his eyebrows, though as the realization hit him, they curved above his eyes in a restrained manner as he expelled a bit of air through his nose.

"You live inside your head too much."

Apollonia tilted her head towards him—unabashedly intrigued that he responded in such a direct fashion—and slowly blinked, gesturing a polite response of, '_Do continue._'

"You've already jumped to conclusions without checking your work first," he replied, trying to appeal to the intellectual region of her psyche, "You've played volleyball before, right?"

Apollonia softly dipped her head, a bodily reaction that was meant to indicate a quiet, '_Yes_.'

"You've helped us third and second years practice before, right? You've seen us in action, you know most of our strengths and weakness."

Apollonia lifted her jaw, and appeased him with yet another nonverbal, '_Yes_.'

"And you have played a match before, you've been in a bunch of matches with us. Maybe the opponents weren't from another team, but you in fact have played with five other people on the court with you, right?"

Apollonia just looked at him, her voice a slight shock as she finally professed, "Yes," in a stoic tenor.

Sugawara bared her a wide grin, slapping his hands on the rail, sending a stream of vibrations from end to end along the bar.

"Then of course you know how we feel. You're in the same boat as us."

She just stood there, bare and empty, as if the words had just filtered completely through her like light through a pane of glass. There was something unnerving about how she could look so cold and smooth at the same time, before sharpening herself into a hard, passive sculpture.

He had a talent; Sugawara did, for putting her at ease when she—admittedly—wrung herself into an overthinking mess, whittling herself down like a pathetic piece of wood. With those honeyed Japanese words he was able to say so much with so little—almost like a Finn, she had to note wryly. Still, even when he proved far more effective with assuring speeches and tender affirmations, he was quick to put her so high on a pedestal when she didn't think she deserved it.

She hadn't lived up to any of her monikers, not to her standards. And though she could continue on as she had: wallowing in self-pity, ruminating within the depths of her specious mind, Sugawara's words had strongly swayed her. They built a strong, rough texture around her feet, firmly rooting her to the earth, to reality.

She lifted her neck a little higher, and looked down at the setter, regarding his grin and easy posture, before wiping her face clean.

"Very well then," she mused before turning towards the stairs, waving her hand as a polite, '_thank you_.'

He watched as she made her way between the gym and the clubroom, running her hand through her down and bristles, setting them as they almost seemed to glow in the vibrant threads of sun. Her stride was a little stronger, her back—if at all possible—a little straighter, as if her vacant shell had been injected full of a pride, full of energy.

He couldn't help but grin as Daichi walked him down the stairs.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Lentopallo__: Finnish; "volleyball."_

_Minä tykkään lentopallosta/ tykkään lentopallosta__: Finnish; "I like volleyball." (Thank you again to Rakuen91 for correcting my spelling!)_

_Kiitos__: Finnish; "thank you."_

_I hope you enjoyed today's chapter, because in a few more chapters we will meet __THE GRAND KING._

_Good night/day everyone! Thank you to all the new followers, favorites and reviewers! Each one of you are gorgeous, and I duly appreciate every single one of you for being gracious enough to comment on my little story!_


	9. Musings of a Moon and King

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 9: Musings of a Moon and King_**

* * *

_Day of the Aobajousai Practice Match_

* * *

She was as asinine as the rest of them.

She was a tall woman with a scary face that Tsukishima guessed could easily frighten small children; and though it looked as if her personality would be somewhat normal—Tsukishima had to assume that most women did not bear quirks quite as ludicrous as his club mates—she ultimately proved him wrong.

She apparently had some sort of fixation for things that could be perceived as small and alarmingly cute: she was most likely the type to have small stuffed animals in her room, or a little keychain with a clay bird or kitten at the end, her phone was possibly decorated with cheap stick-on rhinestones, and her heart most likely stopped when she saw baby-faced men at concerts under the height of one hundred and seventy centimeters. Despite being a foreigner, she must have been over the moon to come from Finland to Japan—a land abundant in things both petite, and unabashedly adorable.

Then, there was the issue of her apparent, '_skill_,' if he even wanted to call it that. Sure, she was tall, so she must have made an adequate blocker if she was actually in health to play. But, she was undeniably a girl—so therefore, Tsukishima made the executive decision that she probably wasn't the strongest jumper or the hardest hitter. Maybe she had decent speed and reflexes that made up for her gender—but girls normally focused more on their form than they did trying to do insane acrobatics like Hinata, or brutish hits like Tanaka, so she possibly excelled in technique, or at least had good game sense.

But, her first impression was heavily lacking in any of those possibilities when she sprinted over not even twenty seconds into the game to upheave her stomach into the trashcan. Then it was further tarnished when she—almost literally—broke down in front of them just because Hinata and Kageyama made the stupid, brainless decision to call her by that heinous nickname of hers—thoroughly embarrassing the Finnish woman, and causing her to show her true, idiotic colors for all of them to see.

Tsukishima was a realist—and after his brother, he made it a personal objective not to take to heart anything he was told. His elders had built up this statuesque, bony-faced girl as one of the most prodigious persons to ever hail from Finland, so therefore, he would take her as such—just a statuesque, bony-faced girl. With his levelheaded filter, he could easily see that she was nothing more than a person of the opposite sex who was blessed with the genetic anomaly of height. That's it.

Whatever their reason for calling her, '_Swan_,' and, '_Apple_,' was probably just dry, Japanese commentary on her appearance. She did have ghastly pale hair after all, like a ghost—or in this case, like a swan—and she did have a rather long neck—along with long arms, long legs, and a long body in general—and possibly she faired well in ballet, and was known as, '_The Swan_,' back in Finland because of her performance in, '_Swan Lake_,' as a child, or something stupid and obvious such as that. And, '_Apple_…' Well, that was just classic mispronunciation on their part, plucking, '_Apple_,' from, '_Apollonia_.' Then again, maybe she had a big fetish for apples like she did boys immeasurably shorter than her.

Regardless of why she bore the monikers she did, or why his upperclassmen—who, when not speaking, were deceivingly normal—had hyped her up so much only to leave them utterly disappointed, her presence did not sit well with Tsukishima. It perturbed him even more that Yamaguchi nearly fawned over the girl like she was an idol. Always when he assumed Tsukishima wasn't watching. It was disgusting: his friend's hands were sweating at his sides, his eyes were wide and curious, and even when she was doubled over heaving her brains out, Yamaguchi could only muse, '_She's so cool, don't you think_?'

Yeah, vomiting is really cool, Yamaguchi.

And of course, _of course_, that oddball pair, Hinata and Kageyama, were no better: while Hinata was shamelessly admiring the upperclassmen, lavishing her with mewls and chirps of excitement, Kageyama tried to appear cool, calm, and collected in her presence—though he was anything but. He tried to act as if she were just another one of his elders there to help out with their training, yet he was all fidgety and awkward, as if he had never properly conversed with a woman before. Hinata—despite his initial humiliation he bore when first meeting Apollonia—had latched onto her, figuratively and at times, literally. Kageyama often followed behind and reprimanded him, parroting whatever Sugawara or Daichi ordered verbatim.

It was just bizarre in every sense of the word, just plain bizarre that his club mates would speak so highly of this strange woman in such a manner that was obviously admirable, when she showed no reason for them to do so. It was foolish, the way that they spoke about her; and it was blind, the way the other first years believed them so easily.

But despite the fact that Tsukishima wore glasses, he was not at all blind.

He knew that Apollonia was most likely a figurehead picked for her alienesque appearance and poised stature—rather than her actually bearing any talent whatsoever. Tsukishima nodded his head to himself quietly, simmering in his own theories, adjusting the bridge of his glasses as he glanced over to a still star struck Yamaguchi watching Apollonia board the bus, rolling his eyes a bit before turning back.

He would not be fooled.

* * *

_Matkalla_

* * *

"She's like a rock."

The trio of second years nodded nervously and tilted their head to Apollonia seated behind Kinoshita.

"I didn't know Apollonia-san could sleep that deeply, and in that uncomfortable of a position too."

"Shh! Kinoshita, you're going to wake her."

Ennoshita wore a wry grin and wiped the bead of sweat along his temple. "I'm not sure that's possible, she looks like she's in a coma."

"I thought girls were supposed to look cute while they slept," Narita mumbled into his palm.

"Narita, this is Apollonia-san we're talking about."

Upon getting situated in the bus, Ennoshita, Kinoshita and Narita had taken it upon themselves to discuss Apollonia's peculiar sleeping arrangements, seeing as she was knocked out the moment she sat down. Both of her oversized medical bags were situated on the seat with her: one at her side, one on her lap. Her head was whipped back on the rim of her chair, angled sharply to the point where it was nearly parallel to her shoulder. Her hands were limp, one resting possessively on the carrier in her lap, the other one slackened and slightly hanging off the edge of the seat. Her legs looked like broken branches, her ankles crossed in an awkward manner, the sheer length of them reaching far under Kinoshita's seat.

The way she slept made her look unnervingly peaceful—as if she _wasn't_ slung over the bus seat like a broken marionette.

"Still, she looks… dead."

"Should we wake her," Kinoshita asked.

Narita immediately flinched. "What if she's one of those types who get really angry when they're woken up?"

"MAAA, what are you guys talking about," Tanaka drawled, a bit of biscuit hanging out of his mouth like a makeshift cigarette. The fellow surrounding second years immediately snapped their hands up, ushering for Tanaka to stop talking, or at least quell his bombastic volume.

"Shhh, don't wake Apollonia-san," Kinoshita urged, bearing the misfortune of being seated in front of her, thus facing the grunt of her punishment less she be stirred. But Apollonia looked about as animated as a piece of driftwood, her body not even habitually twitching at the sound of Tanaka's laughter whenever the wing spiker leaned over a green Hinata to grab hold on her seat's collar.

"Apple-saaan, do you want a snack," he drawled loudly before being shoved back into his seat by Ennoshita.

"Are you trying to get us killed," Ennoshita whispered, though Tanaka merely waved him off with a scoff before shifting towards Hinata. He made to offer the little first year a bit of food as well, though Hinata fruitlessly clawed over him for the bus's window, grumbling and groaning before-

"HRUGH!"

"UUUAAAHHH! STOP THE BUS! STOP THE BUS!"

Sugawara, Daichi and Kageyama whipped around to find Hinata passed out, face first on the seat, Tanaka next to him with his lap soaked in filth, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Kinoshita had to note macabrely that Apollonia hadn't even flinched and was still out cold, stretched over her seat; though as the bus screeched to a stop, she was thrown forwards, thus slamming her head into the back of Kinoshita's chair.

The replacement wing spiker's heart had dropped to the balls of his feet like a lead weight.

Her wispy fringe fell slightly over the leather, before shifting as she tilted up, revealing a truly terrifying expression—an expression so dark and profane, that it dare not be photographed or seen clearly in the light of day. She raised her head over the seat, nearly meeting Kinoshita nose to nose.

"S-s-s…" he mewed quietly, shrinking further and further against the back of Yamaguchi's seat. Apollonia made the mistake of setting her hand on the chair's rim to stabilize herself, the simple movement becoming explicitly threatening to Kinoshita, causing him to holler.

"SCAAARY!"

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima glanced back—perturbed just by how much ruckus was being made on the bus merely ten minutes into the drive—only to recoil in horror at the long, horrifying shadow that took Apollonia's face. Tsukishima, despite his best efforts to remain impassive towards the girl, found himself almost frozen in horror seeing her expression, even more so when he realized that Yamaguchi had ducked under his seat as if she could turn them all to stone.

"Uh oh, it looks like they woke up Apollonia-chan," Sugawara mused.

"It's amazing how she was able to sleep through Tanaka's screaming," Daichi noted.

Kageyama returned the attention towards Hinata—still leaking and groaning and holding his stomach. "Should we help him," he asked. "What are we supposed to do?"

Sugawara reached over the seat to gift the setter a firm pat on the shoulder.

"You'll get to see your Apple-senpai in action," he chirped. "Apollonia-chan," he called out, though flinched when her razor stare was directed upon him.

"Apollonia-chan, Hinata threw up on Tanaka," he finally finished, pointing over to duo behind her.

Immediately, Apollonia's expression took a one eighty and shifted from '_Finn from Hell_,' to something that was barely legible as maternal, or vaguely akin. She zipped open the bag on her lap and placed a surgical mask over her mouth, hooking the strings behind her ears, then pulled out a container of sanitizer wipes, a paper bag—assumedly in case Hinata felt the urge to throw up once again—and a small trash sack for Tanaka to store his soiled pants in. She stood up from her seat and with a broad swoop of her arm, ushered everyone to exit the bus.

Hesitantly, the team obliged, filing out as Apollonia made her way back. She handed the trash bag to Tanaka, implying that he remove his pants and exit the bus as well. He did as he was nonverbally told, and scurried off the bus before the smell had chance to truly hit him.

Apollonia leaned down to the mess Hinata had created, yanking out a couple of sanitizer sheets to crudely clean the immediate spills before it trickled any further down the rows. She reached over into her bag to pull out a fresh towel and lukewarm bottle of water, wetting the cloth before dabbing it along the boy's face, ignoring the pained groans and audible gurgling of his stomach.

"Hinata-kun," she said quietly, trying to get the middle blocker's attention.

Hinata just grumbled in response, not realizing that the distant, whispering voice calling for him was in fact his upperclassman, Apollonia and not the gentle tone of his own mother. Once he came to realization, he jolted to attention; only to have his internal organs twist in knots, sending a violent, sour, earth-shaking, stabbing-

"HRRUUUGGH!"

* * *

"Hinata, I though Apollonia-chan gave you a paper bag to throw up in," Sugawara intoned, pointing to the trash bag clutched in the boy's hands, significantly weighed down by some sort of mass-bearing load.

Hinata's face turned a deeply humiliated red.

"I-I… threw up on Apple-senpai," he croaked hoarsely, fiddling with the handles of the bag that held Apollonia's soiled warm up pants.

His teammates looked at him in horror that he would defile such a petrifying alabaster waterfowl with his projectile stomach acid, even more so that he was walking away unscathed.

Kageyama's brow furrowed, "Does that mean she isn't wearing any pants?"

Hinata almost choked from the implications, face already a bright pink. Yamaguchi's slapped his hands over his eyes, while Tsukishima lazily rolled his eyes in a high arc; there was no way she would walk out of the bus without pants on, so it was nothing to fuss over. Kiyoko nudged Sugawara's side and pointed towards the second years and noted the sudden fixation they had for the bus's entrance.

"Daichi, the second years are being inappropriate," Sugawara calmly interjected, wearing an easy grin that hid a much darker air.

"YOU FOUR."

_SMACK_.

"Ow!"

The second years immediately were scolded with a hard slap on the back of their heads courtesy of Daichi, each forced to bow shamefully as Apollonia stood out in the sun beyond the bus's shadow, wiping off the tips of her shoes with a sanitizer cloth. She returned them with an odd expression—one that was bemused, though not explicitly so—each second year muttering an apology she did not realize she deserved. Daichi stood beside them with a stern expression, barking, '_Have some respect_,' which—initially—had confused her, though as she followed their eye line, it became apparent what exactly and caught their attention.

Without her compression socks, the entirety of her muscular anatomy was on full display under her volleyball spandex: each curve of her long quadriceps slightly overhanging her kneecap, the ribbons of fibers and stretch wrapping around her leg from her Achilles, up around her hamstring into the forbidden regions of her covered hide. She wasn't smooth or slender as a Japanese woman customary was, but to the primal instincts that resided within all of them regardless of their culture, skin was skin.

They could only stare, wondering just how a simple black slip of nylon could make such a difference on her body.

Apollonia's face sobered, her eyebrow arching as she looked down at the second years and wordlessly scolded them for being so frivolous in thought. They should be dutiful second years and setting a good example for their kouhai by being unshakably focused on doing their best in the upcoming match and not her lower half.

She turned to Hinata—still pink in the face and profusely bowing for vomiting on her pants and shoes—and held out a little white bottle of lotion. It looked medical in appearance, but as she opened it, it exuded a strong smell of peppermint. Hinata looked up her, a question forming on his mouth.

"Peppermint will help in keeping the nausea at bay," she answered plainly, rubbing a small dab of the lotion in question on the underside of his wrists. Hinata lifted his arm to his nose, taking a small whiff. He found it almost soothing as his sensory system became flooded with imagery of winter and flavored toothpaste, smells so crisp and sweet that he actually was momentarily eased, though tensed right back up when he felt the back of Apollonia's knuckles resting against his forehead.

"You do not have a fever, but do try to relax."

Hinata bowed deeply before sprinting back up on the bus, hollering, "YES MA'AM, SENPAI," as he hobbled over to his seat, the rest of the team following thereafter.

Apollonia stood at the steps, offering each member a dab of peppermint lotion as well if they too were suffering from unspoken anxiety—though only the second years and Yamaguchi were bold enough to accept her simple gesture.

Kageyama followed up the steps after Sugawara, noting that the smell of stomach waste was skillfully masked within the closed quarters of their van—the aroma of fresh laundry and lemon taking its place instead—and leaned over towards the fellow setter once the bus rolled to a start once again.

"Sugawara-san," he said quietly, gaining his attention, "Apollonia-senpai responded really quickly to the situation. Does she have any siblings?"

"Actually, no. She's an only child." Kageyama seemed to be taken back by that fact: for surely with her level of reaction, she had to have been bred from taking care of siblings or helpless relatives.

"She tries her best, though," Sugawara added, amused by Kageyama's stunned expression, "she's been working very hard."

"She even made the bus smell clean, and offered us something to help with nausea," Kageyama felt obligated to add.

Daichi chuckled. "She's a stickler for details."

The three turned to find that she was once again, passed out cold across her seat: this time baring no shame as she spread out atop both of her medical bags, her knees hanging over the edge. Ennoshita and Narita chuckled at the display, though burst out in unhinged laughter when Hinata did the same and spread out in the back seat behind her, going so far as to even hold his hands over his stomach the way that she did, checking over the seat just to make sure he was following her lead down to the 't.'

"A-a-and, she's out like a light," Sugawara chirped, shaking his head, "That's your senpai for you."

* * *

_Match Warmups_

* * *

Seeing Apollonia passively looking down on him like a bug under a leaf had to be one of the most unnerving sensations Kageyama had ever felt.

If she wasn't all that Daichi and the rest hyped her up to be because of her skill, then surely it had to be because of her intimidation factor—he was quite sure that there was nothing he had seen in the world more terrifying than this girl's pale, bony face leaning down on him with the coldest blue eyes freezing him from the inside out.

A bit of her fringe sat above her arched eyebrow, eyelashes rising and falling in a slow blink when he didn't answer, not that he even heard her question. Seeing that the setter was for some odd reason proving less talkative than she, Apollonia took it upon herself—with a quiet, '_Keep talking, make him feel comfortable_,' imparted by Sugawara from the sidelines—to speak up.

"Tsukishima-kun and Yamaguchi-kun went on by themselves, and Hinata-kun," she started, pointing over to the trembling ball of nerves about to cower under the bench, "Ran away when I asked him."

Kageyama just stood there looking at her until Sugawara and Daichi came up behind him, giving him a light slap upside the head to knock him back down to Earth. He raised his shoulders to his ears, before dropping into a waist-level bow.

"Thank you, Senpai," he said before snapping back up.

Apollonia glanced over to Sugawara and Daichi, who were nodding furiously as if to say, '_That means yes,_' and gesturing for the two of them to go on ahead. Apollonia glanced back to Kageyama—a bit amused that he was standing so straight in her presence when she did little but say two sentences to him—and ushered him to follow her in a light jog around the court. Kageyama quickly followed with his face puckered and alert, though he felt an odd pressure building in his head and chest.

"Remember to breathe, Kageyama-kun."

Startled again by her voice—and accent—Kageyama took in a fully belly of air, the pressure quickly fading, his body returning to normal.

Apparently, he had made the mistake of running with his arms tighter than a coiled wire and his lungs shut completely off—resulting in a poor running form and blue face. A truly shameful display for someone so dignified like himself.

Dignified, _right_.

They had slowed to a stop once beads of sweat began to pool across their brows, Kageyama relinquished himself of his warm up suit, shrugging them off to the side while Kiyoko handed him a water bottle. He accepted it gratefully, opening the spout so that he may take his fill. Apollonia stood at his side with her jersey folded neatly in her hands.

There was an air of confidence about her, though her poker face surely hid it. She may have not been competing, but her aura implied otherwise. It was unrealistic that she would actually join them in a match, whether it was practice or not, but there was something about her that felt so alive. Her sinewy frame was not appalling, but it was living and breathing, like watching an animal in its habitat: so carnal and natural all at once. She shrugged her shoulders, the muscles lacing her deltoid down to her trapezius all the small of her back shifting her shirt as she moved. If it were not so perplexing, it would have been rather alarming to watch, as if he were studying an opponent much larger and well-bred than he prepare for battle.

He glanced down to see bandages that covered her right arm from knuckle to bicep. He quietly pointed to her arm without her notice, mentally probing Sugawara why she looked like a street fighter.

Sugawara proved no help by mouthing, '_Ask her yourself_.'

He grimaced, eventually succumbing to his curiosity, "Uh, Apollonia-senpai," she turned towards him, slightly startling the young setter when he realized he had to look up at her, "Why are you wearing bandages?"

Apollonia looked down at the wrap as if she were seeing it for the first time, twisting it and turning it under her scrutiny. She blinked slowly in surprise that Kageyama was asking such a personal question of her, though politely answered with, "It helps protect my arm."

"That's not the _only_ reason," Sugawara called over from a safe distance. He chuckled when Apollonia's expression clenched then diminished when she stepped off to the side ushering for Kageyama to stretch with her. He obliged, bringing his leg up to his chest as Apollonia had done. They had stretched in silence for a while—the shortage of spoken words feeling less awkward than Kageyama would have assumed—and flexed their shoulders in preparation for peppering while the court still belonged to the other team for the remainder of their four minutes.

"It's nice that you found a commoner to stretch with, King. You were looking awful lonely on your throne over there."

Kageyama turned to gift the gangly middle blocker a sneer, though was cut short when he heard Apollonia clearing her throat beside him.

"Tsukishima-kun, bring your arm in a little closer when you're loosening up, you're not doing it effectively."

Kageyama darted from Tsukishima's astonished expression to Apollonia's unyielding stare: as if her eyes were like impenetrable minerals that had risen from deep within the earth, birthed solely to scold Tsukishima for his crass remark. It by far, had been the most expressive he had seen of Apollonia, and needless to say, it was astounding.

Tsukishima merely scoffed in response, though brought his arm in a little tighter while stretching it out, Yamaguchi doing the same. He turned back to Apollonia and was surprised to see that her face had completely smoothed over like sand, as blank and stoic as ever.

* * *

"Make sure you use your entire body to set, but don't," Apollonia scrunched herself together as if her body had knitted itself into one large wad of muscle fiber. "You want to use each muscle effectively without maxing them out. It will save you the energy without sacrificing power."

Kageyama and Apollonia had been engaging in the mechanical operation of peppering while the other team still had the court: she would toss the ball, he'd set, and she'd receive what he offered her and return it right back, the process thus repeating itself for a few back-and-forths.

Her manner of defense seemed to come easy for her, her experience apparent through her natural handling of the ball. She knew how to properly bend her legs, how erect to keep her back, how to lift more with her core rather than her arms. her form overall was admirable, though had to wonder just when exactly Apollonia had first developed a taste for the game.

"How long have you played volleyball," he asked as Apollonia stepped up towards him to fix his stance.

He flinched when her cold hands shifted his knee forwards, even more so when she ushered him to arch his back further.

"I've played since I was younger, by myself," she returned.

"So you bumped, set, and spiked all on your own," he asked.

"For probably about ten years."

'_Ten Years?_'

Kageyama raised his eyebrows—not only at just how long she had been playing volleyball, even if it wasn't ever competitive—but the fact that she had been playing _solo_ for such a length of time, not even another person to act as a crude blocking post, not even someone to offer her a simple toss.

He wanted to probe how it felt not to have even one other person to at least set properly for her for such a long stretch of time, but didn't want to intrude asking such a personal question, or sound so callous. It would have been fairly rude after all, to just come out and say, '_What did it feel like to stand alone?_' or something just as mindless.

He knew what it felt like to stand alone, though; to look behind him and see not even a single teammate in his midst, like being in the middle of a field in the dead of night, with calling birds and howling wolves, hissing insects and scurrying rats filing all around him, taunting him. He was helpless, so exposed right there on the court, bearing an inhumanly dangerous toss, yet his skill being useless as those he depended on had removed him from their chain.

"You must be pretty versatile then," he finally admitted.

She sucked her mouth in, fairly shocked by how casual his statement sounded, looking down at him almost gratefully that he would say something so kind to her, until it had given way to something passive.

"I know the technique, but I wouldn't say that I'm versatile," she answered evenly.

Delicacy proved not to be Kageyama's strong point as he brainlessly blurted out, "But, you're, 'Karasuno's Swan.'"

A brief look of disbelief crossed her face, followed by a small inkling of irritation before it was smoothed over once more.

She raked over Kageyama—who looked rather guilty for his blunt display—and handed the ball back to him, offering him but one statement.

"I'd like it if you didn't call me that."

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Thank you for all those who have reviewed, followed, favorited, and for all of the loyal readers out there who put up with these long chapters, you guys are the best!_


	10. Humility and Arrogance

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 10: Humility and Arrogance_**

* * *

_Start of First Set_

* * *

_"Rakkaalla lapsella on monta nimeä."_

_(A beloved child has many names.)_

_\- Finnish Proverb_

* * *

_"Apollonia is traveling to America for schooling next year. California, I think."_

_She thought that her lack of verbal communication with her classmates would be enough to keep her private life as such, but in a fairly small setting like Kalajoki in an equally as small country like Finland, word travels fast._

_"She has the money to do something like that?"_

_Taxes and the standard of living in Finland were fairly high so paychecks weren't exactly meant for frivolous use, especially for the small town residents of Kalajoki where simply agriculture, tourism and fishing were what made up the job market. Rather than a farmer or a fisherman, Apollonia was the child of two academically gifted individuals who spent their time slaving over term papers and computer figures rather than driving a combine through a field of rye. Even though Apollonia was aware that there was no superiority being a professor over a harvester, she still felt as though she did not belong when she spoke of her mother's liabilities' journal rather than where the next tractor races would be held. To an extent she almost felt guilty that she could not relate to their hardship because she had never felt them._

_"Maybe she's looking for better schools since she already has near-perfect marks here."_

_"Do you suppose she's traveling first class? America is so far away, isn't it?"_

_"Well, if she can afford it."_

_There was a heavy sort of enunciation on, 'afford,' too potent to ignore._

_"I only was able to buy new shoes last week because timber has gone up. My dad's been pretty busy lately."_

_"Same."_

_"Well, when your mother is a professor and your father works for the airlines in Helsinki, I guess you come from pretty good money."_

_An off-color comment was made about her father's collegiate moniker, before it was laughed off._

_"Must be nice to be so__ privileged."_

_"She probably doesn't have a care in the world__."_

_"Probably."_

"Apollonia-chan?"

Her hands were tightly stitched to her sides, cheeks sucked in between her molars, lips pursed in thought. Whatever outer-body experience she was currently having had dissipated: her arms unbleached and she turned her shoulders towards the setter, offering him her undivided attention.

"Yes, Sugawara?"

He seemed a bit embarrassed that she was so firm to call him by his surname without any decorum, chuckling quietly as though he was unable to properly grow a tolerance for it. He had taken notice of her tighter-than-a-wound-up-coil expression and was bemused that she seemed so focused on the court when the referee had not even placed the whistle to his lips. Then he was ultimately exasperated when it became clear that she was far gone into the untraceable depths of that extraterritorial abyss known as her, '_mind._' Probably musing over something or other completely convoluted and probably as menial as an unperceivable twitch of Hinata's nose. When he finally broke her concentration, he took the liberty to tilt his head downwards, looking up at her with his brow raised in a humorously scolding fashion.

"You're doing it again," he hummed, referring to the way she would somehow drift into another world.

Apollonia stiffened her neck, shrugging her shoulders in a hard, mechanical motion as she tried to will her prior thoughts away.

Sugawara—although pure in intention—pushed his boundaries, leaning in slightly to ask, "What were you thinking about, now?"

Though she meant to keep her face a still as ice, it cracked as her lips scrunched into a small frown, as if sharing her private thoughts would leave a bitter taste in her mouth. How was it that words came so effortlessly to the setter, Apollonia had to muse, though her subliminal inquiry was laced with an apprehension she begrudgingly acknowledged. It was almost physically painful that she was obligated to continue fueling the conversation. She ironed out her hard face, trying blindly to appear as placid as she could manage without sacrificing the authenticity of her actions.

"You have been speaking generously of me to the first years. All of you."

Sugawara's hand jerked to the back of his neck, pulling on the skin as he offered her a nervous smile.

"Is there something wrong with that?"

He assumed she was referring to the over exaggeration of her prowess that he too was guilty in partaking. Perhaps they were a bit heavy handed when they fashioned her with gold-plated nicknames, placing her as high if not higher than collegiate-level in both sports as well as intellect; but it was their discretion, it was _their_ opinion.

Apollonia creased her brow, '_Of course there's something wrong with that_.'

"I do not think it is wise for you all to be talking me up so much as a player. I'm just here to ensure that you all stay healthy for the tournaments to come. That's it." She said it with such confidence; it was almost amusing that Sugawara just stared at her, as if she had just told the most obvious lie straight to his face.

Sugawara could only offer her a cocked grin, before he snorted and bared his teeth in an effortless smile.

"You're really weird, Apollonia-chan."

Apollonia—shocked, though not visually so—tilted her head to the side, forcing her body to stay completely poised and composed, grunting a quiet, inquisitive grunt.

"Ordinary people don't stay in an entirely different country for the sake of babysitting a bunch of goofy volleyball players," Sugawara countered, pointing towards the Regulars as they scrambled for their positions. "Even after everything that's happened, you still didn't leave. They have the right to know just how, 'weird' you are," he finished with a self-confident nod.

"That is your reasoning then," she asked, face unmoved. Sugawara grinned.

"Yes."

* * *

_End of First Set_

* * *

"UUWAH!"

"SORRY!"

"AGH!"

_CRASH_.

"Oh my," Sugawara mused, tracing his fingers around his temples. "Hinata really doesn't handle stress well, does he?"

He had blown an internal fuse after Shimizu spoke barely four words to him—four harmless words that somehow were able to turn his face from a pale green to crimson in the blink of an eye. He looked as though he would have emptied the full contents of his bowels one way or another right there on the court when facing the Seijou regulars. And he repeatedly dived in front of receives that did not belong to him, rather meant for Daichi or Tanaka. As well, he was was fumbling around like a newborn chick, all clumsy and unsure of himself. He even managed to knock the referee off of his stool. To say that Hinata was nervous would have been the understatement of the year.

He was not just nervous; he was practically going into cardiac arrest right there on the court.

They were miles behind their opponents, with the score sitting at match point in regards of Aobajousai: 24-13, though Daichi—as the dutiful captain he was—ensured that they could steadily rack up points if they were able to keep their cool.

Sounded simple enough.

Unfortunately, their cool quickly turned to unstable stomach acid and unshakeable anxiety as whom else but the fifty-two kilogram shell of nerves himself, Hinata Shouyou, scuffled to the baseline. Sugawara softly hissed through his teeth, running his hand through his ashen hair.

"When it counts too," he murmured, "this is going to be too much pressure for him."

Apollonia too looked on at the gut-wrenching sight before her—even though she was not on the court with him, she could feel his insides wringing themselves dry into little infinity knots, and she could feel his bones shattering under the pressure he felt to succeed, to actually to just hit the ball itself.

She peeked through the slits in her fingers that she had been pressing against her forehead before sucking in her lips, exhaling sharply in agreement through her nose. Sliding her hand around behind the curve of her neck, she shifted her attention to the Seijou opponents across the court.

They were expectedly smug by the poor middle blocker's audible nerves crackling throughout the gym, unable to hide the wide—though somewhat bemused—sneers across their lips, and the effortless way they crouched, as if they were not even making an effort at all to play seriously any longer.

Hinata held the ball in his grip, curling over it as another bout of nausea washed over him, though he was trying his damnedest not to sprint out of the gym for the bathrooms. He readied himself for the serve, his hands trembling, his fingers twitching as if all his prior knowledge of volleyball was tossed out the window, his-

"FFFWWWEEEW!"

"UOAH!"

The referee's whistle caught him by surprise, and instinctively he jerked his arm up and overhead, hitting the ball more with his fingertips than his palm, unable to make a proper parabola to scale the net. Despite its shaky execution, it bore a certain amount of power—more from the horrendous mixture of adrenaline and anxiety than actual muscle strength—and seemed to be soaring at a fairly fast pace.

_SMACK_.

Straight for the back of Kageyama's head.

Apollonia and Sugawara's eyes tore open, both bringing their fist to their mouth, biting on the bit of skin between their thumb and index finger, inhaling loudly through their noses in perfect synchronization.

"Oh no," Sugawara whispered after the referee blew the whistle declaring Aobajousai the winner of the first set, "This is not good."

Both setter and medic watched as Tanaka and Tsukishima broke out in a mortifyingly boisterous fit of laughter, instigating a dangerously pulsing vein to nearly burst from Kageyama's head.

"Don't laugh at him," Sugawara shouted towards the two. He threw his head back with exasperation, watching Kageyama with a hesitant eye as he made his way towards a cowering Hinata. The middle blocker seemed to shrink further and further into the ground, like a planting growing in reverse, with Kageyama expanding larger and larger in form, his temper rising off of him like dark steam.

Sugawara glanced around when he heard a rustling of bags, peering over his shoulder to find Apollonia digging through one of her medical carriers, pulling out several items and set them on the bench as she zipped the case back up, returning to her full stature.

"Apollonia-chan, what is all that for," Sugawara asked, motioning to her myriad of tools she had set out for herself. Apollonia glanced up at him before returning her attention to slipping a pair of disposable medical gloves over her hand, subtly implying that her ministrations should be quite obvious.

"Kageyama-kun," Apollonia called, motioning the boy over towards her once the team had ceased bowing.

She had a flashlight in her gloved hand—something that thoroughly confused the setter as he skulked towards her—though when he walked up it became apparent why.

She gestured that he tilt his head back, opening up one of his eyelids and shining the light through before clicking it off, opening up his other eyelid and repeating the process. She took her glove off, bringing her hand close to his ear and snapped sharply, the sound waves vibrating against his ear, though not enough to agitate him. He looked back at her, bemused though not willing to verbalize it, though did not need to as she stuffed the flashlight back in her bag, answering him with a simple, "Precaution."

She looked down at Kageyama, seeing that he did not seem satisfied by her one word response, still frozen in shock that she had even called him over just to shine a light in his eye and snap her fingers next to his ear.

"It's a rudimentary check for concussions. I don't think that Hinata-kun is capable of that much strength," she began. Tanaka could not help but snort as the middle blocker in question shrunk back with an embarrassed frown. "But I just wanted to see."

Kageyama nodded slowly, standing rigid once she spoke again.

"You seem alright, are you feeling dizzy or disoriented?"

Kageyama shook his head, "Uh, no, Apollonia-senpai. I'm fine."

Apollonia made an off sort of shape with her eyebrows, cocking them in a way that came off as disapproving.

"I'd prefer if you stopped the, 'senpai,' speak," she returned lightly, before tucking her flashlight back in her medical bag.

Kageyama blinked in a sort of thunderstruck manner up at her, feeling his face take on an almost imperceivable rose tint, though did his best to hide it walking back onto the court. He tried to return to his teammate's side with an expression that was skillfully composed, though the skin under his eyes quickly darkened when he received caws and barks of, '_Oh, the King gets the special treatment_,' and, '_I won't lose to you, Kageyama_,' from Tsukishima and Tanaka respectively, before Daichi quelled them both.

Once Kageyama made his way back to the court, hiding the somewhat flustered expression he bore instigated by his teammates, Apollonia redirected her attention towards her right at the fidgeting carrot-top engrossed in a one-side staring contest with one of the Aobajousai Middle Blockers.

"Hinata-kun."

Hinata flinched and turned towards the Finn tipping her head back in a calling manner, nervous that she too would bear a few passive-aggressive words for him regarding his shameful display in the first set. This was '_Karasuno's Swan_,' after all: for all he knew, she could probably pick him up, heft him over her head and throw him right out of the gym.

He shuffled over to the shadow of her statured presence, the white curtains of her bangs more eerie than they possibly intended to be, the stone walls of her face smooth but firm. All at once, he felt compelled to cower once again.

But when her hand had shifted from her side—unfortunately causing him to shut his eyes and wince against his better instincts—Hinata peeked through his lashes to see Apollonia's hand held out gently in front of her. Her palm was pale and calloused, evident of years and years of serving, spiking and handling the grunt of volleyball just as they all had. Yet she offered it so calmly to him, like a soft bramble of branches and leaves, cloaking a bit of spring buds and fruit. Hinata just looked stupidly at her hand, wondering if he were supposed to see an animal in it like a cloud, or analyze her future by the lines in her cracked skin, something other than just stare at her like a blank wall.

"Surely," her whispering voice jolted him back to reality, "They have high fives in Japan."

Hinata's jagged orange hair flipped up as he stretched his neck to meet Apollonia's eye line, finding her face completely even, completely poised, save the glint of almost imperceivable lightheartedness. The words finally registering in his head, a wide smile graced his mouth. Confidence gathered in his feet, slowly spreading up the line of his back until he was once again bubbling over with energy. He bounced side to side on the balls of his feet, as if he were a child eagerly awaiting the arrival of their parents at school, a small noise of delight fruitlessly muffled as he smacked his right hand down against Apollonia's.

Apollonia did her best to hide her amusement, begrudgingly wearing a stain of pink on her cheeks under the wisps of her cropped hair, and offered the middle blocker a polite, "You'll do better next set," as her hand fell in place back at her side.

Hinata nodded furiously, holding his fists up to his chests as he yelled, "Yes, Senpai! I'll be better!"

"Uuuwaah, Apple-san is giving out high fives," Tanaka hollered, running up to the two, "Apple-san, wish me luck too! Wish me luck too!"

He brought his hands above his shoulders, curling his hands into fists after Apollonia reluctantly returned his gesture. Tanaka turned to the nearest teammate—being the unfortunate Tsukishima—and barked, "Tsukishima, high five your senpai, it'll do you some good!"

"I don't think a high five will make a difference in the game," Tsukishima returned dryly.

Entirely disregarding Tsukishima's negative comment, Tanaka and Hinata pulled on him arms to lead him towards the Finn, trying to pry his hands from his chest in effort to at least touch knuckles with the woman. Apollonia shook her head, her lips puckering in fatigue as she watched the two try to drag the beanstalk closer towards her against his own will, with said beanstalk growing increasingly annoyed both by being manhandled by his teammates and being forced to interact with a certain third year that, in his own personal opinion, lacked any discernable personality or worth.

He was—somewhat—saved as Daichi hollered for the three of them to switch sides of the court, scolding them for holding up the game and behaving so mindlessly in front of their opponents.

Sugawara chuckled as he made his way back to Apollonia's side. She arched her eyebrow at his quirky grin, his perfect line of teeth visible between his parted lips, the mark on his cheek almost lost in the crinkle at the corner of his eye. She shifted her attention to the hand he held out to her, gesturing that despite his absence from the court, his palm required a little attention itself.

Apollonia responded accordingly and graced Sugawara's outstretched hand with a small slap, though paused when his fingers sculpted themselves into a 'thumbs-up' gesture.

"Well done," he chirped good-naturedly.

Apollonia merely blew a bit of fringe off her eyebrow, reverting her attention from the setter off to the court before them, boring down at the Regulars as they took their positions.

* * *

_Third Set_

* * *

"Kageyama, who is this laidback guy," Tanaka questioned through gritted teeth, pointing to the boy across the court: clad in aqua and blue waving toward the purrs and squeals aimed at him from above. "I find him irritating."

"That's Oikawa Tooru, the captain of Seijou," Daichi answered, slapping Tanaka's arm.

"Oikawa-san is a super aggressive setter," Kageyama added thereafter, "His attack power is at the top of his team."

Hinata jolted in astonishment: for a skilled player like Kageyama to be praising another, well it was almost like a blessing, like a king praising another king.

"And he's got a terrible personality," Kageyama deadpanned. "Maybe even worse than Tsukishima,"

Make that, king roasting another king.

"Coming from you, that's scary!"

Tanaka queried where Kageyama knew the alleged captain, the boy apparently being his elder during middle school at Kitagawa Daiichi.

"I learned how to serve and block by watching him," Kageyama noted, "His skills are extremely high."

Hinata turned a sickly shade of blue as he turned towards Kageyama's elder, the rest of the team following as they watched Oikawa softly scolded by his coached, then ushered to warm up for the match.

Oikawa took off in a light jog, acknowledging the yowling girls in the stands with a coy smile—which merely darkened Tanaka's already brutish expression before it was smacked away by the back of Daichi's hand. Apollonia turned her head towards the captain as he made his way off, meeting Sugawara's line of sight as he disappeared towards the outside walls.

"That's apparently Kageyama's old senpai," Sugawara started upon seeing Apollonia's intrigued expression, "He learned almost everything he knows just from watching him."

Apollonia hummed quietly, better fascinated that Kageyama's skills were almost immaculately bred than she was of Oikawa: he simply had to wash his eyes over an individual, scanning them, their movements engraving themselves into his brain like initials in wood. And a powerhouse like Kageyama, with accuracy that rivaled a sniper rifle, and strength quite impressive for a young Japanese boy of his build, it was peculiar—though fascinating—that the inspiration for his skills was trotting around the gymnasium with an easygoing grin across his lips, observing them as he circled the perimeter like a grazing predator.

Apollonia hummed mutely as she watched him puttering along the sidelines, drinking in each member as they prepared for the next set, absorbing the feel of their movements and the tension within their stance, quirking a small smile before returning to his warm up routine.

For someone ordinarily so unruffled, Apollonia couldn't help but feel uneasy at the arrival of their new adversary.

* * *

_20 - 24, Third Set_

* * *

"Only one more point," Sugawara mused, arms crossed.

Apollonia returned Sugawara's statement with a soft nod, glancing from side to side at each team in regards of their reactions towards the match point: the Seijou Regulars despite being near the brink of death with Karsuno holding the last point gently in their talons, did not waver, the one particular Kindaichi soaring higher than he had before. With one single snap of his arm, he aimed a hard slam down into Tsukishima's outstretched limbs, though due to the gangly first year's inexperienced and hesitant form, the ball bounced off his skin in a messy fashion, out of bounds.

Sugawara clicked his tongue, offering, "He'll need a little training for his receives," before glancing expectantly at the woman next to him.

Apollonia aimed a rather displeased look towards him, as if to say, '_Well, it's not going to be me._'

Unflustered, Sugawara pursed his lips and nodded a stubborn little nod, a firm retort that stated, '_Believe me, it will be you_.'

He swiveled back to the match, though raised his chest a bit when a certain, coffee-haired captain made his way onto the court.

"They are putting in Oikawa," he noted, his voice peaking with interest. Apollonia nodded in affirmation.

Oikawa's presence was naturally a powerful one, as if the entire team had shed their skin, reapplying a better coat more refined, more confident then they wore before. With a patchwork team like Karasuno whom was comprised of disagreeable first years and hesitant upperclassmen, Seijoh suddenly seemed to shine, even if just momentarily. Simply from the addition of Oikawa. He raised his arm, and held it stable as he pointed towards Tsukishima, that cool-headed grin still carved into his mouth like wax before taking a step back to serve.

It was as if the doors had ripped open, a hard gust of wind pouring through as he stepped back, tossing the ball into the air, lunging forwards before his entire body had lifted off the ground. Power poured out of him, his vigorous strength spiraling all around him like silken robes. It was as marvelous as it was chilling, watching as a temple was transformed into a castle. It left her speechless. It honestly took her breath away, every miniscule movement of his languid limbs. The Japanese had such lithe bodies, slim but not frail: they were built to wither under gravity, but there was something in their veins that carved them from stone, that made them impenetrable to waves around their knees.

He was so captivating, the way he shifted and glided with the bitter Eastern winds, the sound of his hand meeting pleather like an explosion. But as Oikawa's feet once again returned to the earth beneath him, sliding proudly over the tile as if the floor beneath him were the back of his onlookers, his peers, his commoners, she felt compelled to muse:

That was positively the most arrogant serve she had ever witnessed.

* * *

_After the Match._

* * *

Though they walked away with the match in their pocket, there was a still an air of tension that kept them level: despite winning there was still the undeniable fact that Oikawa had singlehandedly illuminated perhaps their greatest weakness in defense.

"No matter how excellent Hinata and Kageyama's combo may be, we still need to strengthen our perimeter," Daichi had started, inwardly frustrated that he had to admit such a fact, though understanding that even the raw talent that they held in their hands already was not enough to assure a certain victory. They continued to walk on in their staggered line, though found a slender shadow standing idly, almost as if he were waiting for them.

"As expected of the captain," came his light, haughty voice, "You really understand the situation, huh?"

Tanaka glided forwards, with his hands in his pockets and his spine arched. He lifted his chin up to Seijoh's captain, trying to instigate a reaction that would justify a quick brawl before Daichi could pull him back. Hinata as well strode forwards, though was clutching the wing spiker's jersey as if the millimeters of fabric would protect him from hurricanes or earthquakes. Oikawa offered a spritely laugh, gesturing that he came with only good intentions and nothing more.

"Your attacks were certainly incredible, but if all of your receives are slow and hesitant, you'll reach your limit sooner, won't you?"

"We'll do special training," Hinata yelled confidently, taking a hold onto the sleeve of an explicitly displeased Tsukishima. The wispy grin on Oikawa's face had faded for a frown that looked genuinely serious. While he appeared light and a bit carefree, the notion that anyone could just suddenly become better at anything without years of foundations struck an obvious cord. Oikawa had a firm hold on his tongue, choosing his words carefully and tactically.

"Receiving isn't something you can improve in a short amount of time though, your captain certainly knows that."

He shifted off his heels to make his exit, though as he scanned the crowd one final time, he made eye contact with Apollonia and tilted his head, a small grin budding within the gap of his lips. It wasn't often that people could escape Oikawa's scope so easily, yet she did it with ease. Of all of them, she seemed the least affected, though Oikawa might be able to chalk that up to language barriers.

"I don't believe I've ever seen your around here before, you must be new, Shiro-kun," he began, gesturing to Apollonia.

"You're obviously not their coach," he started skeptically, assuming that this tall, bizarre-looking individual was of high school age.

"And only one manager can stand on the court," he continued before regarding Apollonia's long frame, "And surely someone of your height would be on the court if they were a player."

With a small grin that held nothing but bad intentions, Oikawa tied up his loose sentence with a final question, taking his time sculpting each word as though they were carved from gold and honey.

"So I wonder, what worth does that leave you?"

Tanaka took a step forwards with his fist raised and was quickly pulled back by Sugawara and Daichi, though they were unable to mask his coarse, four letter retorts that were aimed at the captain.

They glanced back at Apollonia expecting to see her brow furrowed in agitation, or at least an inkling of amusement, anything at all to show the Oikawa's words had registered with her. Anything at all to show that she was still conscious, feet firmly planted to the ground.

"Well, what is it then," Oikawa pressed, "You're surprisingly quiet."

However, they were far more terrified, not because any of their aforementioned theories were confirmed, but because there was absolutely, positively _nothing_ on her face. Unadorned, freshly painted walls could not have been any blanker, any cleaner. If there was anything more intimidating than explosive volatile anger, it was Apollonia's sort of silence that was calm and cool before it unleashed an unstoppable storm.

They flinched when she shifted her weight to one leg, turning her nose slightly up at him, her mouth firmly drawn in a straight line. Her eyes had taken on a chromatic gray finer than any European silverware, and despite the mild weather of the passing afternoon, the temperature around her seemed to reach absolute zero.

"Are you asking my name," she began, her tone dull, "Because if you are attempting to upset me without even having the dignity to ask my name first, then you aren't worth the insult you intend to give me."

A wave of recognition swept across Oikawa's face, as if something previously unknown to him became suddenly clear. The off pitch of her voice, the androgynous shape of her face, the grace she wore that seemed too airy to be masculine.

Karasuno's foreigner was a woman.

Oikawa's personality flipped from one of intimidation to one of charm in two seconds flat: an unflappable smile replace his venomous grin, laying the floral decorum on thick as he tilted his head towards Apollonia.

"My apologies," he hummed in a less than convincing tone. Apollonia did not respond.

He held out his hand to what Apollonia assumed to be a western greeting. "Let me start over then. Oikawa Tooru. Or I guess for you, Tooru Oikawa, Captain of Seijou's Volleyball Club," he said lightly.

Apollonia glanced at his hand before responding, "Apollonia Manner, Athletic Trainer."

She clasped her hand with his—a little more aggressively than she probably should have—and was unexpectedly satisfied when Oikawa flinched under her frigid grip. With two solid shakes, he had yet to relinquish his hand from hers, holding it not with care but a taunting persuasion.

He turned slightly to Kageyama, speaking still to Apollonia, his sight never leaving the fellow setter.

"So, you're their caretaker, then," he hummed, his eyes narrowing, "Be sure to take good care of my precious kouhai. I intend to crush him, setter to setter. I would like to show him that he still has much to learn."

Apollonia raised her eyebrow, and placed a bit of pressure on his knuckles with her thumb to return his attention towards her. She wasn't one to place herself in the limelight, but Oikawa's threatening demeanor had exposed a rawness that she felt unfamiliar to, a sort of… obligation to stand in front of, and protect the first year setter.

She bore down at him, able to see her own feathered hair and chalky skin in his eyes like a tinted mirror, searching the shallow pits of his stare for the thread of weakness that would altogether unravel his conceited remarks. He was unwavering in return, staring back up at her with an easiness, almost challenging her to unearth his placid expression if she dare find the means. But, when she discovered the loose string swimming between the brown of his iris and the almost black of his pupil, she quickly, meticulously and skillfully...

Plucked it.

"Your serve is very unrefined."

Oikawa's smile had turned into a strained line; as if it were trying it's best to keep from frowning.

Unfortunately, Apollonia was not finished.

"I'm surprised that Kageyama-kun's own serve—a serve impressive in its own right—was actually learnt from you. But, I guess that you should feel honored that your skills have been transferred to someone _better suited_."

She narrowed her eyes when the grip on her hand had tightened the slightest; she noted his nose scrunching in the building frustration evident in his demeanor. Placing her hand back at her side, she picked the bag back up off the ground and shifted the strap across her shoulder, her eyes never leaving Oikawa's.

To her surprise, Oikawa beamed before turning away, his hand raised for a departing wave.

"You're a funny one, Medic-chan. I look forward to talking with you again," he chirped, offering them an empty, '_good luck_,' before turning back, his hands in his pockets as he strode off towards the buses.

Once out of earshot, Tanaka exploded with laughter, holding his knees for support. Hinata ran up in front of Apollonia, his hands shaking with excitement, though he fruitlessly tried to hide it when he struggled not to grasp for her jacket's hem, ultimately stepping towards her side, clawing at the medical bag at her hip, mewling, "Apple-senpai, that was so cool! So coool, Apple-senpai!" Sugawara detached the small middle blocker from her hip when Apollonia turned away completely red-faced, her shoulders hunched slightly as if she had made the gravest mistake of her life.

Tsukishima—however placid his face appeared to be—seemed to scrutinize her from beneath his glasses, trying to formulate an expression to properly display the mixture of emotions he felt towards her interaction with the Aobajousai Captain. He was impressed—not enough to actually nod his head to—but was a bit curious why she would stick up so valiantly for the setter, when she really bore no relation to him, nor could she really validate her explanation that Kageyama's serve was better than his elder's. Though he possibly could have injected a coarse remark himself, he had felt compelled not to, other than the terse, "Yamaguchi, stop that," in response to his friend shamelessly gawking at Apollonia.

Kageyama stood back, shuffling a small step back, unable to put himself in her sights—completely blindsided that she had the gall to praise him as she did, to essentially dust him in gold with the simple words she spoke. She successfully deflated Oikawa's bloated ego for the sake of his own pride, and she did it all with that throaty, Nordic dialect—her voice beyond composed as if she had fully prepared a written, typed, and revised script for the brief span of minutes that she spoke with his old Kitagawa teammate. He was embarrassed, first and foremost, but at the same time, he felt a sense of gratitude that she would go out of her way to talk up his abilities, whether he deserved it or not.

He snapped to attention when Daichi stepped forwards and graced the Finn with a polite, "Good work," instigating yet another frown as she adjusted her bags, rearranging her face to keep in straight and stoic.

He stepped forwards towards his captain and medic, assuring, "Don't let him get to you, he just likes to get people riled up."

However, Daichi did not seem fazed at all by Oikawa; in fact, his demeanor was rather dark with confidence, evident as he turned towards his team, reluctantly admitting that they didn't have all that much time to drastically improve, but offered them a solemn statement.

"It's about time _he_ returned," he began, turning his attention towards Tanaka as he gasped with excitement, then to Apollonia as she raised her eyebrows in recognition.

"Who are you talking about," Hinata asked, leaving Apollonia's side for his captain's. Daichi grinned and looked off beyond the buses, as if he could see straight through the crowds and traffic, the fluttering aves hopping from tree to tree, and the hollow walls of their school to the slender, but boulder-faced back of their smallest, albeit loudest, crow.

"Karasuno's Guardian Deity."

_Nishinoya Yuu._

* * *

_Omake: Honesty_

* * *

"Did you really mean what you said about Kageyama's serve," Sugawara asked behind his cupped hand as they made their way to the bus. Apollonia offered a small noise of inquiry, as if she did not initially hear him, before arching her neck in a manner that neither confirmed nor denied such allegations.

"Oikawa appeared to have a complex against Kageyama, I used it to my advantage," she stated openly. Sugawara seemed to have desired more of her explanation, glancing from Kageyama to Apollonia and back with his eyebrows raised.

Apollonia blinked slowly before offering a small retort to quench Sugawara's curiosity, "I'll admit, it's a fair serve that Oikawa has…"

She paused, sharpening her eyes slightly as if the Aobajousai captain were standing right there before them.

"But beneath one who flies with arrogance in their span," she noted quietly, her voice barely legible even to herself, "Is a heavy weight of self-loathing holding them down."

Sugawara lifted his chin at Apollonia's statement, a bit mystified by her words, though was not sure if he thoroughly understood. Apollonia regarded his expression, and offered possibly a better explanation.

"Kageyama-kun should not learn moves that were bred from self-loathing," she began, "He should have someone not quite as pretentious as Oikawa standing above him."

Sugawara grinned, fully gaining the clarity of what she was trying to express through her broken dialogue, allowing him a glimpse of just what exactly was running through her sculpted ivory mind.

"You're right," he mused before nudging Apollonia's bag with good-natured jest.

"Take good care of him, '_Apple-Senpai_.'"

Sugawara snickered as he boarded the bus, the sound of Apollonia choking on her own breath rather loud in the stagnant, evening air.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Fun Fact:** in Finland there is a greater sense of equality between genders, so you could say that due to her heritage and upbringing, Apollonia is a pretty strong feminist, so for Oikawa to be putting her down like that didn't instigate the kindest of reactions from her._

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_

_P.S. Thank you for all of the reviews, favorites and follows. You make me blush, each and every one of you!_


	11. What Holds Us Back

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 11: What Hold Us Back_**

* * *

_'Soon this childish body_

_Will have all its power_

_And one day a man's strength_

_In its arm will flower.'_

_\- 'A Child's Song to a Widow,' Jaako Juteini_

* * *

_Present_

* * *

_After the Aobajousai Match_

He had been internally battling with himself to just go up and speak to her. He wasn't _afraid_ of her, he was just afraid to speak to her and slip up and accidentally spout something incoherent or stupid. She was a smart, studious student with grades that apparently toed the water of collegiate. As well, she was apparently a fair volleyball player according to the upperclassmen, while he was the only first year left out standing in the rain with Sugawara, Kinoshita and Narita.

He wasn't offended that he shared the sidelines with his elders—they were probably very skilled in their own right—but he did feel a little shut out that since he wasn't as talented as Kageyama or Hinata, or as tall as Tsukishima, he was put on the backburner.

Along the sidelines was Apollonia as well, but she didn't look as though she was left out in the cold: there was a certain amount of pride she wore, whether it was just the shape of her face or the positioning of her body. It was admittedly admirable, that just because she was a woman—and thus was by rules and regulations, not allowed to play alongside them in actual competitions—she stood as though she would be called to the court in an instant. She had a look not of hesitation that he wore, but of _expectation_, like she was ready to play at a moment's notice.

He desired to profess his awe towards her, but had suffered enough of Tsukishima's reprimanding to know that the phrase, '_She's so cool_,' had now become a vile curse in Tsukishima's vocabulary.

'_Since she's been here, she hasn't really done anything except check for concussions and stretch with us_,' he had said as they walked a few steps behind the group making their way home. '_Yet they talk about her as if she invented volleyball itself_.'

Perhaps, but he still wanted to know: he wanted to know more about her, about her skills, about Finland, anything he could learn. Maybe, if he knew, then just maybe she'd be able to mold him into a player worth of standing on the court.

"Yamaguchi, what are you doing?"

He hadn't even realized that his steps had lengthened in stride thus surpassing Tsukishima's. Tsukishima always had a foot ahead of him, in everything in fact, so understandably he must have been startled to see his trusty sidekick departing from his side.

Yamaguchi flinched, but did not slow, instead taking another large step, then another towards the group. He turned his shoulder and offered his a friend a small wave.

"Sorry, Tsukki, I just wanted to ask Apollonia-senpai something."

He could hear a clear, '_Tch_,' in return, though had walked too far to turn around. He was already padding lightly behind her, she had taken her place at Sugawara and Daichi's side with all standing tall like an impenetrable wall of third years. He nervously brought his hand out in front of him, cursing himself that his palm was in fact, physically sweating, and lightly tapped Apollonia's shoulder.

She turned around with a quick snap of her neck, the tips of her hair and eyelashes quite ominous being lit in the conflicting tones of the streetlights and nightfall. She inquired his presence with a lift of her eyebrow and patiently waited for his response.

But, all he could do was stutter: not even her name, but just unidentifiable sounds. She probably thought he was pathetic for showing his stomach like that to her as if he were a lowly puppy.

She slowed her limber stride to settle alongside him, looking down at him in what she dearly hoped to portray as a soft and comforting manner. She was a bit downtrodden to see him flinch and shove his hands in his pockets then quickly look away from her—worried that she probably frightened him more than ease him—though straightened back up when his voice—albeit almost trembling—met her ears.

"U-Um… Apollonia-s-senpai… I-I was wo-ondering… U-uhm," how was he going to go about this, "What… is your position on the court?"

There, that was a good start. Ask her what her position was to break the ice, thus giving him the gateway towards asking when she would finally help train them, and then he would be able to pick her brain for how he could train in order to get a chance to actually be on a starting team.

Apollonia offered him a quick look of inquiry. "Middle Blocker," she stated.

"UUUOOOOH," came Hinata's star struck howl, "You're a middle blocker too, Apple-senpai?!"

Hinata shoved Kageyama out of his way to bypass for her—but was immediately yanked backwards by Daichi, being glued to his other hip alongside Tanaka with Sugawara offering a strained wave. Yamaguchi tried to close his jaw without actually moving his hand, and tried to lower his eyebrows to a more respectable level rather than the high peaks of his hairline.

"O-Oh," he returned, trying to quell the palpable excitement in his voice for the sake of remaining casual, "I'm a Middle Blocker too." As if she didn't already know from their charts.

He meant to elongate the conversation into something eloquent and enlightening, but found himself stuttering while Apollonia offered him a pitied tone of acknowledgement—as if she were apologetic that he was at a loss for words beyond the ones he spoke. He glanced around to those in front of him, finding Kageyama and Hinata curiously looking over their shoulders at the two, musing questions of their own, though Daichi ensured that they remained polite enough to allow Yamaguchi the room to speak.

"Di-Do, Do you have any tips for us f-fellow Middle Blockers?"

Apollonia raised her eyebrow and titled her head, rubbing the back of her mane with her bandaged hand.

"What did you want to know?"

Her voice was soft, as if she were trying to save the sanctity of their private conversation despite Hinata desperately trying to wriggle out of Daichi's grip while Kageyama kept flicking his attention behind him. Yamaguchi averted his eyes down to his shuffling feet, mumbling with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Will you be playing with us at all?"

Apollonia seemed to stiffen at his question, but did not deny him of an answer.

"Likely not."

* * *

_Apollonia_

* * *

Her apartment was rather small: not as if she would complain about the size—she was lucky to have been graced with housing quarters at all—but everything was small in Japan compared to Finland, especially the likes of her home in Kalajoki.

The walls were stark, unadorned; she had not yet hang up any pictures, mostly because she really never took any pictures or had pictures taken of her during her lifetime, only documentations of certain vegetables that she would buy for a new stew recipe or of the scenery located outside of her porch.

Her phone was oddly bare for a woman of her age: it was as simple, plain and silver as it had been when she first took it out of its packaging, as was its contents inside. Of course, that was mostly because upon arriving in Japan, she decided not to endure the trouble of SIM cards and roaming charges, and just went out and bought an entirely new phone altogether. Her old phone—equally as drab and uninteresting in appearance—was back in Kalajoki, probably powered off and gathering dust.

There was only one number in her new contact list—begrudgingly being her housing manger less she have troubles with her room. Other than that, everything about the device was completely empty: no numbers, no pictures, nothing but her alarms to wake her up for school and calendar to remind her of exam dates. She primarily communicated with her parents through emails and letters, seeing as calling them would probably have cost her enough euros and yen to rent a car in Miyagi.

Not that she was particularly enthused at the thought of driving in Japan—the youth of Kalajoki were bad enough on the roads, she couldn't imagine what the drivers in Asia were like after hearing the California's speak so rudely of them, not that the west coast was any better. Back in Kalajoki, she harbored the money her parents were saving to buy her a used car and burrowed it away for other locomotive vehicles: taxis, rickshaws, boat travel, rental vehicles, etc. In Miyagi she had settled to just go out and buy a bike; she was set on just _renting_ a bicycle or even a car, but after applying to one of the local Universities, she had broke down and just bought a new bike for the sake of permanence.

She strolled over towards her porch, rather grateful that she was actually able to get a room that gathered a few hours of sunlight, providing her an adequate spot to dry her clothes—though it hardly mattered, considering she had little to wash.

She really only had her school uniform, as well as seven days worth of athletic clothes. Her parents had provided her with money for shopping as soon as she entered Japan so that she would be able to venture out and find clothes worn by Asian youths, but unfortunately, she was not exactly a desirable size in Japan, nor were their aesthetics all that appealing to her. Never before had she seen so many ruffles and tulle on one article of clothing in her life—but God was Japan infested with them—among other foreign textures that were miles away from the cotton and wool she was so accustomed to. She stood absolutely petrified when she first walked into a clothing shop, even more so when the natives with their petite stature and plush faces just stared at her as if she had just walked into another dimension. And as the women brought their hands to their mouth with shock to see someone of her nature, she turned foot and power-walked out of the mall, red-faced and mortified.

Needless to say, she was somewhat thrifty using her athletic clothes, going so far as to hand wash them in the shower and dry them for the next day since she was reluctant to go out and actually buy something new. She lifted a pair of tights from the line, tucking them under her arm before returning down the narrow hall towards her kitchen.

She pulled a small glass mug from the cupboard and filled it with a bit of water before setting it on the counter. She opened her fridge and pulled out a half-cut lemon from the crisper, squeezing what juice was left into her mug. Lemon water was refreshing in nature, and cleansing for the body, and after a long day of scrutinizing the team as their opponents, she took the liberty to give herself a pick-me-up for the night to come. Despite the bleak color outside, and the time displayed on her phone, she still had much to do before she would allow herself the luxury of sleeping.

She flipped the lantern on that hung over her workstation, sliding the chair out as she set her cup of lemon water to the side. She opened a drawer at her left, revealing a long line of colored notebooks of varying sizes, each with their own pen strapped to its back. She pulled out a few notebooks, setting them on a small pedestal, first opening the grey spiral that read, '_Wing Spikers_.'

She documented Tanaka's noticeable strength increase due to his maturing body—though he was still heavily lacking in a maturing mind—and wrote extensively of his use of calf muscles and abdominal muscles. In a separate color, she regarded with caution that due to his liberal calf usage, he was putting himself at risk for muscle strains and Achilles tendonitis by relying too much on the tips of his toes for balance. She praised Daichi for his improved receives—though she was honestly unsurprised that he was making so much progress, considering he pushed himself daily to exceed his own expectations. There were lines and lines that illustrated Ennoshita's playing style—how it was not innately aggressive, but nonetheless improved since his first year.

She flipped through her other books, the ones that were labeled, '_Middle Blockers_,' and, '_Setters_,' absolutely gushing about the phenomenal pair that was Hinata and Kageyama. Trying to keep her head on straight, as well as keep an unbiased eye towards the two—she had scolded Hinata's recklessness, citing his disregard for the fall after his high jumps, for the sometimes odd way his knees would bend upon impact. As well, she slighted Kageyama—for even though the boy was no doubt a genius, and no doubt swept nearly all of them in speed and stamina—his form could have used a bit of a spit-and-shine polish. There was stiffness to the way he set, a lack of relaxation and control over his outer demeanor that made his tosses look far too intense for what they actually were. It was inefficient for the boy—the look on his face would eventually suck out all of his energy and leave him open for his opponents to catch any mistake he would make, any slip up to give them the upper hand.

She took a sip of water before she finished her thoughts on Tsukishima's height regarding its advantages as well as its disadvantages. She cocked an eyebrow at the boy's body mass index, trying to assure herself that he was inherently a small-boned individual, as well he was not from Finland—thus not as bulky as her brethren up north—and that he was not distressingly underweight for a boy his age and ancestry.

Still, he could stand to gain a few kilograms, or _ten_.

She shook the thought off, glancing at the time displayed on her phone's screen, turning it of with a small '_click_.' She shuffled through her files, making small comments on some of her prior observances, fleshing out a hypothesis regarding their improvement rate, coming up with exercise plans for those who could stand to carve a little muscle—essentially everyone, actually—among other trivial side-notes here and there. She set each one aside once finished, turning them on their façade and running a hand through her hair, taking another gulp of lemon water, now mostly acidic pulp.

But, as she came to one lone book—vibrantly orange, just as loud as his uniform, just as loud as his personality—she paused, and traced her long fingers over the bold print she had stamped on its cover, as if every stroke of her hand were a thousand hours of memories she had dedicated to that one, single boy, all the hours she spent analyzing his spritely jumps and hops from end to end of the court, all of the hours she willingly endured his horrendous volume and aggressive affection.

She looked inside at the words she had written merely months prior, nothing but praises and exultations for him despite their free-fall from the skies. His recklessness and prideful bruises exasperated her, but she could not deny that his form was fair, and he was unnaturally flexible and limber—somewhat surpassing what she assumed the normal human body could stand. Her diction was positive, through and through, though stained with a maternal vexation when he would shrug off his sore muscles, completely ignoring her request to properly stretch, heat and wrap his trouble areas. Still, even Apollonia could tell by her own, vague linguistics that she was more than happy to document his improvement, to document all of the hours she spent watching him grow and prosper.

But her map of his prosperity was cut frighteningly short; and still she could feel the chills and tremors overcome her at the mere thought of how much anger Nishinoya was capable of holding in his little body. Frustration, betrayal, emotions so bold and sincere that it was hard to believe that just one person could house them all at once without physically exploding. Apollonia could only handle what felt like one or two emotions at once, any more and she would crack. Because she was not as strong as Nishinoya. In the deepest subconscious of her mind, it was one of her worst fears that she would see Nishinoya shatter, knowing just how strong and special he was. But, after that certain match, he released what felt like a lifetime of hurt, of heartbreak that still sometimes echoes throughout the supply room.

And even still, it chills her to the bone.

* * *

_One Year Before the Storyline_

* * *

'_He's so small, like an elementary school kid.'_

_'But he's pretty talented for someone his size.'_

_'It's lucky that he's a libero: that's where the shorter ones usually prosper.'_

_'I wonder if he'd be even better if he were a little taller.'_

_'Yeah, he's probably thinking the same thing._'

It's not as if he was immune to their words: it was just that he was so skilled putting on a brave front that he was.

Sure, he was not the tallest member of the team, and he did begrudgingly have to buy trousers from the petite section—as if he would ever admit such a fact to anyone else but his dearest friends. And, while it was a compliment that he was athletically talented, did they really have to tack on that snide comment of, '_for someone his size_?' Why couldn't they just say that he was talented and leave it at that? Height or not, he worked just as hard as any of his teammates whether he was on or off the court. He was worthy of the praise he was given, but not because he was small, not because he wasn't two meters tall.

So why couldn't people see that?

Why couldn't someone just come out and say, '_You're enough. You're strong_?'

'_I trust you with my back, I know you'll protect it._'

'_Thank you, Nishinoya_.'

Words such as those would be worth more than gold in his book, more precious than the backhanded comments he often received.

As far as he could see, his height was irrelevant to his skill. Even though he had to take an extra step or two to make up for lost ground, he wasn't any less talented than those long-legged giants opposite him. He was waiting to bloom, to soar, but was constantly held down by the doubts of his peers—doubts that, unfortunately, were dingy enough to stain his own clothing.

'_I could have gotten that return if I could stretch my arm a little bit longer, if I could jump a little bit farther_,' he inwardly scolded. It was only a practice match, but he couldn't bear to glance up too see Asahi standing on the front line, looking down at him while he was on his knees, the point lost because of his downfall.

But when he looked up, he was turned slightly in his direction, panting and doubled over. He was grateful. Asahi was always grateful.

Asahi, like the rising sun, was just peaking over the horizon, smiling gently, laughing a small laugh. He wiped the sweat under his lips, shifting the tuft of hair resting on his chin before he brought his hand back to his knees. It was warm, the way he looked at him; like the dawn of a new day giving him another chance to live and breathe in tandem with the earth he stood so solidly on. Giving him renewed energy.

"Good job, Nishinoya," Asahi puffed, "You'll get it next time."

'_You're good enough. You're strong_.'

'_Thank you_.'

He bowed his head, more than exhausted. He didn't need to say it, but the message was clear.

'_I trust you with my back, I know you'll protect it_.'

"I-I'll get them all next time," he boasted, stepping slightly towards Asahi, "I swear I will! So you just take the sky, and I'll handle things down here! With me as libero, you won't need to worry about your back, because I'll protect it!"

Asahi straightened up, his face wiped clean as if it had fallen on the floor under his shoes before twitching up into a small, flustered smile.

'_You won't need to worry_.'

'_I'll protect you.'_

_'I am strong enough.'_

He'd never let any of them down.

* * *

_Two Months Prior to the Storyline_

* * *

All Asahi knew was that he was falling, falling, _plummeting_ out of they sky, a seemingly endless decent, the wind whipping around him, through him. His teammate's voices had been lost in the decline, and he had lost his own, his breath empty as shallow as he hit the ground on his back, his arms spread out, broken and clipped.

'_Nishinoya is doing so much_,' he mused. But it was all for not, his own teammates labored efforts wasted on him, someone so meager and pathetic like himself. Someone unworthy of the title, '_Ace_.' He was practically crawling over the floor, covered in bruises and sweat, his limber arms thrust out in front of him for every dive. Sugawara stood between them limbo of Sky and Earth, delivering the ball to him for what he thought was an assured victory.

_SLAM_.

But, he couldn't score. Not a single point: everything just splattered against the wall, denied their view beyond the horizon. Everything black.

_SLAM_.

He was afraid. They had been defeated.

_SLAM_.

Nishinoya's efforts,

Wasted.

Sugawara's tosses,

Wasted.

Everything,

Wasted.

In the supply room, tensions ran high. Their backs at one point were facing away from one another, but they might as well have been at each other's necks, teeth just above the jugular.

"Block follow ups… I couldn't do them all!"

_That's_ what Nishinoya was worried about? He by far had worked the hardest, who was torn down the most, covered in scars. How could he be so frustrated running around the court, when the pitiful man-child that was supposed to be their rock, their, '_Ace_,' could not even penetrate the, '_Iron Wall_?' Not even once?

Asahi's fists shook.

_"Why,"_ he cried. "Why aren't you blaming me?! It was my fault we lost!" The frustration was rising in his wasted body, his voice croaking and his throat red with fury. They were staring—Daichi, Sugawara, Apollonia and Kiyoko in the distance—just staring at him, frightened with disbelief as the fires engulfed both he and Nishinoya.

"No matter how many balls you recover, it's meaningless if I can't get a spike through!"

"What do you mean, 'it's _meaningless_,'" Nishinoya growled, his petite frame licked with fury, pushing back against Asahi with his own frustration. "Then why didn't you call for that last pass? You could have hit it from your position."

"I couldn't have scored anyway, if you had tossed it to me," he spoke lowly, angling his head off to the side, unable to meet any of them in the eye. The ropes around him were pulled so tight, the bindings on his arms, his legs. Choking him, stretching beyond his reach. The light within him was slowly fading, giving way not to night, but to nothingness.

Nishinoya grabbed him by the collar, throwing him back, twisting his bindings tighter.

"You won't know if you don't try, dammit!"

He was choking, tighter. Tighter.

"The next one could have gone through, for all you know!"

Sugawara was striding towards them, his arm out, but he was already broken. They all were. He heard the sound of wood cracking under his feet, and for just a moment he thought it was just a mirror of his bones, of his glass-covered ribcage.

"DON'T YOU DARE DECIDE TO GIVE UP ON A BALL I'VE RECOVERED!"

And as he walked away, Nishinoya's eyes prickling with moisture, his own no drier, he damned himself.

He had fallen.

They had been severed.

* * *

_The Next Day_.

* * *

"He didn't show up," Nishinoya stated with his arms crossed.

The rest of the team did not speak, but glanced at the ground, silently acknowledging his observation, the absence of their, '_Ace_,' rather apparent among their dwindling flock. Apollonia stood off to the side, her notebook in hand, observing Nishinoya as his shoulders tightened and he began to tremble, like the beginning of an earthquake. It was unsettling, and put them all on edge that their little spitfire was uncharacteristically tame. He spun towards her, pointing with an outstretched finger.

"Apple-san," he began roughly, like the texture of hard clay, "You need to bring Asahi-san back."

Apollonia, understandably shocked, tilted her head back, as if to question, '_What_?'

"Tell him you'll help him," Nishinoya pressed, his words as loud in volume as ever, but tougher in delivery: just one single step from desperate, angry. "Tell him you that if he comes back, that you can help him overcome the blockers, no matter what."

Apollonia just shook her head. She could not nourish what didn't want to feed.

"It is not my place," she said. Though truthfully Apollonia was capable of no such thing.

"What do you mean," Nishinoya returned with a sneer, grabbing hold of Apollonia's shirtsleeve. "He wanted to be better, you need bring him back! You're our coach right now, aren't you?"

"This is not about me. Right now, there is a disconnect between the two of you," she returned, lightly brushing Nishinoya's hand from her shirt.

But she didn't mean that: it wasn't them as a pair, it was them individually, all three of them, setter, libero and wing spiker. But she found herself pinpointing them, as if the problem were as simple enough as their weakening bonds. But it wasn't the matter of group dynamics, it was of self-worth.

And she felt disgusted that she was callous enough to blame the faults in their connections, knowing full well that Nishinoya valued the wires that connected them all more than anything.

Nishinoya stepped back, his mouth parted in shock, his brow furrowed.

"Working with a broken machine is inefficient. If the connection between you two cannot be mended, then it is pointless."

No. No. She didn't mean that. She didn't mean any of that. She had made a mistake saying what she had. That wasn't what she wanted him to hear. It wasn't the team, it was the individual. It wasn't the bond between he and Asahi, it was the fear that held them both back. That held all of them back from trudging forwards.

It was just fear, it was just doubt.

His fists curled, his body burning up once again, as though he had been doused with gasoline and defeat, but he couldn't find the means to yell at her. He was cracking, his surface splitting in two, three, one hundred fragments, opening him up and swallowing him under. Falling.

Without their dawn, they had been bathed in darkness, blind in the cool breeze of the inky obsidian around them, but without even the night sky to console them, then what would befall of the land beneath that had sought their attention, their praise?

"Don't say that," he barked, walking past the club doors.

"Don't call us, 'broken.'"

* * *

_Two Months Before Storyline_

_After Practice_

* * *

"This isn't your fault either," she said quietly as they made their way down the road, "Just so you know."

Everyone was just on edge that was it. Everyone was still reeling with emotions after the fall.

She was hoping that he would glance up at her, and grace her with a small smile—even if it was forced and insincere, even though she didn't deserve it. But Sugawara would not even raise his head to her; he held his body low, as if he were not even worthy to walk upright with the rest of his teammates. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and his head was facing away from her, more towards the dimly lit shops as they passed.

He was blaming himself, clear as day, for the unfortunate events that had transpired. He blamed himself for Asahi shattering in his hands and growing fearful of battling head-on against his opponents, for using and abusing him just because he was, '_The tallest_,' just because he was their, '_Ace_.' He blamed himself for all of their losses, because he wasn't fast enough or strong like his teammates, and _he_ couldn't even handle the pressure he placed upon himself. Just as Asahi became scared to call for a toss, he became scared to toss at all.

To see them crumble sent shockwaves up and down Apollonia's arms, weighing down her shoulders and her mouth into a full body frown. She wasn't even on the court with them, watching idly from the stands far from their crowd in the shadows, and she felt shattered, severed, disheartened by their defeat. She couldn't bear to endure their vulnerable expressions: they tugged at the slowly beating heart within her chest, until she too wore their emotions on her skin. And she felt selfish for doing so.

They reached the base of the hill, passing by a store still illuminated, the headband-donning shop owner reading his paper with tired eyes. She held her hand out in front of Sugawara's chest, ushering him to stop, then made her way into the shop, not a moment later coming back out with a small paper bag. She held it out to Sugawara, though he hesitantly glanced at the bag as if she were outright handing him a tangible question mark.

"You all seem to be partial to this Nikuman," she clarified, "I bought the spiciest one."

A small upturn of his lips was barely legible in their light, accented by his quiet, defeated voice.

"Oh, thank you, Apollonia-chan," he returned weakly, "But I'm not very hungry right now."

"You don't have to eat it," she deadpanned, as if ingesting such a meal would have been nothing short of ludicrous in nature. Sugawara tilted his head to further emphasize the confused, '_What am I supposed to do with it then_,' he offered her, complete with a quirked lip and brow, holding the Nikuman as though it were made of glass.

"Isn't something like that a symbol in your culture," she asked clumsily, gesturing to the bag a little more timidly than she intended to. Seeing that Sugawara's face was still contorted in a shape of disbelief, she snapped her neck away from him, and fiddled with the strap of her bag.

She was just being courteous: she had meant for the gesture to acknowledge her intention to console them to the best of her abilities—which, obviously resulted in complete failure on her part. If she were lucky enough to be blessed with a small height or waif-like build, or basically possess any qualities relating to a traditional woman for that matter, she would have gently hovered her hand near the back of his arm, towards his elbow—as if to assure him, '_I'll do my best to make everything all right_.'

But she bore none of those qualities on her skin—the most she wore was the little feather etched into her arm, though even an emblem as loaded as the tattoo on her skin seemed dingy beneath her clothes, under the dreary lighting above them.

Therefore, she had the bright idea to buy him hot food.

It was something—whether he decided to eat it or not—that was warm to the touch, _comforting_. It was spicy: something that Apollonia eventually learned through his habit after lunch of ingesting numerous mints and portable mouthwashes was to mask the smell of peppers and chili sauce, was Sugawara's favorite flavor. It was true to his culture—a food that was oddly fun in appearance, and common in festivals as well as convenience stores—so it must have appealed to him just by the kitsch alone, to eat a food somewhat indulgent in nature. It was a treat, in short.

She had intended to hand him the bag, and exchange mental dialogue with him, then both be off on their way to their respective houses: his smile restored and intact, her inner-depreciation silenced with the assurance that she was at least able to console _one_ of the three downtrodden crows.

Sugawara folded the edge of the bag slightly over, holding it limply in his hand as they returned to a slow walk at her side towards their respective homes, his, '_Thank you_,' quiet in nature, aimed more at the ground than her. Apollonia bowed her neck in a defeated fashion: food had not worked, her shameless attempt at appealing to him with cultural symbolism only confused him, and probably made her look like an ignorant fool. Only her unspoken words were left as an option, though the thought of it tore her apart: would she speak intelligibly for him, would he understand her, would she be able to get her point across?

It never hurt to try.

"We all deal differently with the trials we are faced," she began, shifting her sleeves up high on her arm to allow the cool, evening air to prickle her skin—hoping that by some grace, perhaps the chill would reawaken the feather on her arm and soften the hard look on her face and allow her to relax within his presence. She unconsciously ran her hand up and down her arm to smooth the almost unperceivable hairs standing on end before her hand settled idly on her bag once she realized just how fidgety she had shown herself to be.

"But eventually, we'll all return to one another despite our differences. Beneath the ground, a forest's roots are all intertwined."

Sugawara raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips in thoughts.

"That sounded pretty poetic, Apollonia-chan, is it a Finnish proverb or something?"

"Uh… no," she deadpanned with a small recoil. "I did not intend it to sound poetic, should I reword it?"

"No no, it's fine the way it is," Sugawara assured with a strained smile, trying his best not to laugh at the fact that Apollonia looked completely serious about rewording her entire monologue for his benefit.

She had done her best to console them, though even _he_ wasn't sure the proper way of mending the situation. It would have been convenient that Asahi came back and everything could be back to normal: but there was still animosity, and everyone was still wallowing in self-pity, everyone was still terrified to play, to play with one another in fear of letting each other down. It was an endless cycle, an eternal circle of self-blame that no one but themselves could fix.

'_She's trying_,' Sugawara assured himself, thankful that Apollonia despite all of the factors that separated her from them, she too was entangled in their roots, she was a part of them. He felt grateful that he could metaphorically lean against her in that manner, that she cared enough about them despite not having any valid reason to do so.

"Please do not hold your head that low," she said suddenly.

Sugawara was honestly taken back, seeing that her brow was slightly creased—almost in a motherly fashion—as if she were truly concerned with his demeanor.

"You'll get a neck ache doing that. As well…"

She tilted her head away from him, lifting her chin up, the terse line of her jaw quite ominous as the sickly glow of the shops painted her skin and shadow, and opened her mouth before she let it close. Sugawara blinked to clear his vision and ensure that the color building in her skin was in fact of the tone he believed it to be: a light European pink warming bits of her skin under the conflicting tones of indigo and yellow. And as he confirmed the small flush that she was desperately trying to hide, he straightened his shoulders and offered her a gentle smile, knowing very well that she could still see him in her peripheral.

She waved lightly before setting off on her path home, whatever words she may have spoken tossed to the side in place of a nonverbal, '_Goodnight_,' by the small swivel of her hand.

Sugawara folded the bag of Nikuman under his arm and cupped one hand around his mouth.

"Check yourself to see if you have a fever, Apollonia-chan, your ears are all red!"

He chuckled quietly as she cringed, apparent even in the dusk, but allowed the grin the slowly drop as she made her way out of sight.

And in silence he walked home.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Small glimpse of Apollonia's apartment/ personal life. She spends her nights filling her journals regarding the crows, and in later chapters we will actually get to have a better look of what exactly she writes._


	12. This Is Why I Am Here

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 12: This is Why I Am Here_**

* * *

_'This is why I have come here:_

_to lay forth my games_

_to perform my songs_

_to tell forth my tales -_

_not to sit about_

_not to prop up the doorpost_

_nor to stand beside the wall.'_

_\- 'Why Have I Come Here,' Larin Paraske_

* * *

_Present_

* * *

'_Who is she?_'

When Ennoshita had first asked that question of him, he felt the compulsion to either laugh or throw his head back with a confident scoff, perhaps even both.

The aforementioned, '_she_,' being Apollonia, stood on the court and bowed respectfully in the presence of the Karasuno team and Coach Ukai Sr. introducing herself to the team merely days after their three-on-three. It was the first day of what he viewed to be their, '_True Training;_' though by the bemused faces of his fellow first years, it seemed that he and Tanaka were the only first years to know of Apollonia's prowess.

He would have answered with nothing more than, '_That's_ _Apple-san_,' to Ennoshita's inquiry, finding that there was nothing more to say about her that her playing style wouldn't say for itself.

She had that sort of silence that compelled him: an ability to wander around the court so quietly, almost enough to render her undetected, like a shadow among other shadows. A flicker of something in the night that remain unseen. Whenever her opponents did focus in on her, it was like they were trying to adjust their eyes for the night, their pupils dilating to drink in the ambiguous shapes outlined in darkness. Once they finally were able to follow those glimpses of her darting through the shadows, they were blinded when the curtain of day was opened before them, grand stars like Asahi and wild sparks like Tanaka shining brighter than any bulb or flash when Sugawara's toss came to them.

He wanted to be just that: a dangerous weapon that was staring them blankly in the face, with his opponents too ignorant to realize. He'd be able to help his teammates flourish by supporting them from the baseline, his receives more than perfect as they seldom made a sound against his skin. For someone as loud and boisterous as he was, it was uncanny how demure he was rushing around the field from line to line, going for saves even the most daring of liberos would hesitate to dive for.

It made him beam with excitement, even more so when his teammates would praise him. He enjoyed Tanaka's overzealous bellows. He enjoyed Daichi's diplomatic words, and Sugawara's chipper grin. He enjoyed the genuine awe that Asahi would show; even though for someone as large and powerful as Asahi, it should have been Nishinoya that was perpetually awed. He enjoyed when Apollonia would turn towards him, and offer him a small nod of encouragement, saying more with one simple look than most could do with a lifetime of prose.

It was astounding how her demeanor changed, even if it _was_ almost indiscernible in nature. People often couldn't fathom that she was anything but straight-faced, perhaps even detached to anything going on around her. But when she was on the court, she was conscious, her mind open to anything and everything happening that very moment; it was if she could see anything and everything.

She wasn't even going to be instated as their trial medic until the start of her third year; yet during her second year, she stood among the other benched players, observing their movements with such tenacity, as if she could still them with the blink of an eye and pick them apart piece by piece.

It wasn't as if he had _forgotten_ exactly what she did for them: he was aware that she took her job as trial Athletic Trainer very seriously, even if in all honestly it was a hollow position. Any injury they sustained could easily be taken to a nurse to be looked at; she was more of just a glorified assistant to the coach, or to the manager, who took detailed notes of their form and how they could improve. Sure, when Coach Ukai Sr. collapsed, she stepped in alongside the third year captain and soon-to-be captain, Daichi, to help refine their form and strengthen their bodies, but even then, her presence could have been misconstrued as, '_extra help,_' that wasn't direly needed.

But he wanted that, '_extra help_,' that she provided. When she was a trainer, when she was a partner, and when she was their step-in coach.

Even if her position in name didn't have that much value, he couldn't deny that he felt a little more energized when she was there with them on the court. He'd jump a little higher, reach a little farther, as if she were standing right in front of him, depending on his skillful receives for a victorious spike. Nishinoya may have been dense, but he wasn't ignorant to the fact that he revealed certain characteristics specifically in her presence—he wanted to appease her, to see her regard him with an idle blink, nod of the head, and a small, '_Thank you_,' or, '_Well done_.'

It was exhilarating to hear those words from her—from a person like her as well as Asahi, from two people who seldom spoke, who were talented beyond his imagination, who thanked him without the dreaded, '_You're pretty good, for a little guy_,' at the end of their compliments. They made him want to work harder, they inspired him to be better, so they didn't have to worry about anything other than attacking.

And yet, they were so easily ripped from his hands.

'_She feels bad for what she said to you_,' Ennoshita had mentioned as they walked home after Asahi's departure, '_You shouldn't be mad at her_.'

At the time, he was too stubborn to accept her guilt, and just kicked a piece of stray trash littered on the ground, his hands shoved in his pockets, the scowl still fresh on his face. But being under house arrest and being banned from club activities allowed him the breathing room to expel his frustration, and truly unearth what was bothering him, and come to terms that even their almighty, '_Apple-san_,' was capable of fear, and capable of falling herself, and for that he could not condemn her for her misstep. Apollonia put on a stereotypical, '_brave face_,' for them, swearing that she would live up to their expectations and help them succeed, to catch them if they fell, even though she was already fighting her own demons. The stigma of being a gaijin, the language barrier, the overwhelming buildup of health issues.

But if she was so busy trying to support them, then who was there to catch her when she too, fell? Who could trust to act as _her_ safety net, struggling to walk upright everyday when her body was constantly overcome with pain and fatigue?

She took responsibility along with Kiyoko and picked them back up when they were grounded. If she fell, did they have the courage to do the same?

He was supposed to connect them, surely even a small frame such as his could support someone as large as Apollonia if all of their roots were intertwined, feeding him the strength and power to do so.

He no longer blamed her, and he no longer stewed in anger, but he didn't know how to approach her after everything that was said and done. How was he supposed to apologize for his actions? She rarely spoke, and he was not capable of the vocabulary it took to articulate even the most simplistic, '_I'm sorry._'

It wasn't the easiest thing to do: to just go up to a person, a woman of all people, whom he regarded as something more than human and exchange apologetic words meant for commoners. He couldn't just throw himself to his knees and comically hold up his hands in prayer like he normally did when he seldom did displease her. He felt that he couldn't just waltz up to her and act as if nothing had transpired between all of them that day, that they never felt those sour feelings or those conflicting emotions. They couldn't just ignore the pain they caused each other, and the friction they caused themselves not being able to overcome their self-consciousness.

They were all wrapped up with their own matters, and it pained every one of them that they were too helpless to do anything about it. They wanted to console one another, but didn't know how: they all, individually were splintered, too weak on their own to keep themselves bound together.

Perhaps Apollonia was right.

Perhaps they _were_ broken.

But, they could be mended. If they were all stronger individually. Once they had rebuilt their own bodies, they would be able to strengthen one another, together. He could help repair them, he could keep them connected. He would let them all know, just as they had done to him when he was laying face down with the words of his peers crushing his back.

'_You are strong_.'

Every one of them. Reconnected.

'_We are strong_.'

* * *

_Apollonia_

_Morning_

* * *

_BEEP._

_BEEP._

_BEEP._

"Urghh..."

She slung her hand haphazardly over the edge of her bed, her fingers searching in the dark for her phone. Her eyes were still closed, stubbornly stitched in reluctance to actually bring herself to full consciousness.

When the sensation of cold metal finally caught her attention, she pressed the button at its base with her ring finger, lazily swiping off her alarm in one single stroke. She slowly opened her eyes to see the glow of her screen illuminating her ceiling, trickling down to her left arm that was still resting at her side. She flexed her fingers, taking her time to stretch the muscles trailing along her forearm, around her elbow, and up behind her shoulder. She uttered a small, satisfied yawn, bringing herself up and slinging her legs over the side, her feet settling down on the hard surface of her apartment floor.

She brought her right arm out in front of her, stretching as she had done with her left, though with a little more care and attention. She flinched as she swiveled her elbow out, immediately feeling a sharp electrical spark shoot down her arm into her wrist and fingers. Her breath had hitched in the silence of morning, echoing off her eggshell walls. Calmly, she turned her arm, regulating her heart rate, and allowed the pain to dilute into nothing more than a numb tightness. She stared down at her arm, rubbing it with the pad of her thumb, applying just enough pressure to stimulate circulation through her veins to allow her muscle to stretch and warm, flinching whenever she'd feel small stabs of discomfort.

'_It's going to be one of those days_,' she mused with a small frown.

Though she should have been grateful that the state of her condition was overall mild in symptoms, she was still perturbed that she was a slave to her own body's fickleness; that she awoke each day wondering whether this would be that day where if felt like she had been hit by a speeding train, or whether she was blessed enough to function normally as long as she didn't make any sudden movements or reckless decisions.

Unfortunately for Apollonia, it was a, '_hit by a train_,' sort of morning. The entirety of her right side felt more like driftwood held together by serrated nails than actual healthy skin and joints.

She sighed quietly as she stood from her bed, her knees creaking audibly upon the hinged movement and pedaled over towards her desk, pulling out a small illustrated journal riddled with a muscular man twisted and coiled into different yoga positions. She flipped a couple of pages before she came to the routine she desired: the set of poses marked, '_Morning Wake Up_,' accented with step-by-step instructions Japanese. Once she had complete the entire cycle of Sun Salutation, she flipped a few more pages towards a series labeled, '_Strengthening_,' specifically for the muscles in the arms.

She placed her hands under her shoulders on the mat, boring down into the porous material with a determination far too fervid for five 'o' clock in the morning, she internally scolded herself when she felt herself grinding her teeth.

'_Relax, relax._'

She brought her knees forwards, digging into the back of her upper arms. It was uncomfortable, though she tried to assure herself that it would pass. The joints in her wrists felt as if termites had chewed through them, leaving little more than a thin, mangle knot of bark tissue connecting her hands to her arm. Sharp rhythmic pulses wove down into each individual finger into her mat, threatening to tear the foam and rubber to shreds if she dug in any more.

'_Breathe. Just Breathe_.'

A small inhale as she slowly rocked forwards, a slight tilt of her head to halt her forward momentum. Her arms were beginning to tremble, her core igniting with a fire Hell bent on keeping her stable.

But the fire spread to her right arm, strangling her muscles and tendons with a hot, iron grip. She clenched her teeth, damning herself as her breathing stopped short. Her head swung forwards when she hissed at the pain, causing her arms to buckle and her body to lurched over her shoulder. She landed hard with most of her weight pressing down on her elbow and wrist, the limb numbly shivering underneath her: tensing and twitching as she brought it out onto her lap.

She had taken a few deep breaths to regulate her body once more, reluctantly leaning over towards her bulky cuff with an irritated expression taking place of her stoic frown. She sighed quietly, closing her yoga manual and stowing it away before she tugged on her uniform, running her hands through her hair as she walked towards the bathroom to brush her teeth and apply a generous amount of menthol rub onto her arm.

She had to admit, though, despite the cumbersome shackle wrapped around her wrist, the irony of the situation was rather humorous. Of all the yoga poses to choose from,

The _Crow_ was one of the few poses she just couldn't execute.

* * *

She was about ten steps from her apartment before she stopped in her tracks and opened her bag. Her eyes darted back and forth struggling to decipher what it was that she was missing: she was wearing her uniform, and she had her athletic wear, her medical bags were in the club room at school, she had a small apple and bag of carrots in case she needed something of substance after practice. Everything seemed to be in place.

'_Ah, right_.'

After realizing that she had forgotten her journals, a trivial misstep on her part, Apollonia made a quick turnaround for her room, her feet scuffling loudly as she unlocked her door and slid through her kitchen to her desk. She opened the drawer and grabbed her spirals, placing them neatly in her bag. She took the time to place each one in specific order. Though as she looked down into her bag, she was reluctant to zip their colors out of her sights and be on her way. Surely she had remembered all of them: General, Middle Blocker, Setter, Wing Spiker.

Her eye caught the flash of orange still residing in her drawer, the only spiral bearing just one owner, one muse. He was likely to show up at practice any time now, and it would be more convenient to bring along the bright orange notebook; but just the sight of it, just remembering the look on his face when he walked away, the words he spoke in a tone that sounded so dark for someone usually so bright and carefree…

Had she been as open in outwardly expressing her emotions, she very well may have doubled over herself, as if she had just seen a ghost, or an abandoned child roaming the street: it was the sour combination of fear and guilt that was building in her stomach, burning through her body like a cocktail of chemicals.

'_Working with a broken team is inefficient.'_

God, she felt sick.

_'Broken.'_

_'Inefficient.'_

She had whittled him down to mere pencil shavings, referring to him as a useless cog in a damaged machine—a machine that was beyond repair, a machine only worthy of the sticky underbelly of a trashcan or the dusty corner of a closet. She completely threw out the situation—dubbing it merely a severed connection between Nishinoya and Asahi, when in fact, their relationship was only a small fraction of what she truly perceived to be the problem.

She wanted to place all their blame on herself, for not training hard enough on her own and with them, for not being there for them when she should have. She thought she could make a difference. She thought at one point that _maybe_ she could bring Asahi back. But as plain as they all could see, their resident Ace was nowhere to be found.

And she was left with her empty words and her self-centered intentions.

Had she just kept quiet and let Nishinoya exasperate what was left of his temper, she'd still be able to look him in the eye, and he'd still smile impishly at her.

But, perhaps she was being too idealistic.

Her left hand instinctively rubbed the hem of her jacket sleeve, sliding the fabric up until she could feel her skin, cold and bare, underneath. She ran her nails against the hard black plastic of her cuff, shifting it up under the fabric of her shirt.

And with a hard exhale, she placed the orange notebook in her bag, shutting and locking her door with an audible, '_click_.'

* * *

_After School_

* * *

_Knock, Knock_

She held her knuckles against the door, tapping twice again when she heard a rustling around inside. It opened just a crack to reveal just the right half of Ennoshita's face and bare shoulder before the wing spiker blinked, once, twice, and whipped the door shut with a loud, '_SLAM_!'

Apollonia cocked an eyebrow, a bit offended that she treated with such discourtesy when all she was trying to do was retrieve her bags. She heard muffled orders along the lines of, '_Get dressed_,' and other chides that she assumed was aimed at whoever else was present in the room. After a few seconds of clothes rustling and low grumbles the door was opened once more—Ennoshita properly donning his athletic uniform with an irritable-looking Kinoshita and Narita haphazardly dressed, tying their shoes. They made to banter Ennoshita for causing them unnecessary panic getting ready for practice, but seeing Apollonia in the doorframe was enough to render them silent.

"Oh, it's Apollonia-san," Kinoshita noted, rising to his feet and walking over towards the far left corner of the clubroom. "You're here for your bags, right?"

Apollonia nodded and held out her hands for the medical carriers, though could not find the initiative to actually step through the threshold to retrieve her things. When Ennoshita had fully opened the door, she had crinkled her nose slightly, possibly smelling an odor they themselves were blind to, or just disgusted by the unseemly manner of their dirty floor and half-strewn clothes. She leaned her head slightly in, glancing from side to side, pausing when her eyes rested on the poster depicting an unrealistically buxom harem of idols on a beach scene in less than favorable swimwear.

Her head creaked as it returned forwards, pushing Narita and Kinoshita back into the corner of the clubroom, her eyebrow arching dangerously as she stared all three of the second years down. She opened her mouth slowly, forming each syllable with purposeful eloquence, clearly drawing out the name, "_Tanaka_?"

Truthfully, the idol poster had been up long before any of the second years arrived, but for the sake of saving themselves from Apollonia's maternal glare, and for the sake of their own personal amusement, Ennoshita nodded, repeating, "Yeah, it's Tanaka's poster."

Apollonia made an odd noise between her teeth before stepping a foot in to take her bags from Kinoshita, slinging one over her left shoulder, taking her time resting the other over her right. Kinoshita looked reluctant to give up the carriers so easily, going as far to actually stick his neck out and say, "You know, we can help you with those."

Apollonia's eyes flicked up for a brief moment, before they went back to adjusting the strap on her right bag, swatting the surface as if to wipe off whatever filth it might have gathered sitting on the boy's clubroom floor. Ennoshita quirked an eyebrow at her compulsion towards cleanliness, though he felt somewhat snubbed that she thought little of their own personal hygiene—well, he could understand that sort of apprehension towards Tanaka or Kinoshita, but he was a well groomed individual on his own. He watched as she shook her head and turned, returning wordlessly something he assumed to be along the lines of, '_No thank you, I'm capable of doing it myself_.'

Sugawara was the most adept at decoding her subtle body language, but Ennoshita seemed to pride himself on being a close second if not third behind Daichi. He took in the slight drag of her right shoulder and the odd way she clenched that side of her body, glancing over to his fellow second years to see if they had noticed it too. They returned his look with equal inquisitiveness, but turned to him for whatever initiative he thought they should take. Ennoshita slipped out of the clubroom alongside Apollonia, tugging lightly at the bag until he was able to transfer it to his left shoulder in one swift movement.

Apollonia's head jerked over towards him, eyes opened as if she were downright _offended_ that he dare help her carry her bags. The women of Finland were more than independent, and the sheer thought of anyone—much less a male—help her with something as simple as transporting her medical equipment was enough to smash that aloof mask of hers into dust. Gathering a pretty good idea what was going through her head, Ennoshita grinned and stepped slightly away from her, and flipped the bag across his body to make it more difficult for her to take.

"We're your kouhai, you should let us help out."

"I do not understand your culture's custom regarding age," Apollonia admitted with a visible frown, "Just because you're younger, than implies that you must dote on me?"

"Well, no," Ennoshita returned, struggling not to show amusement towards her contorted view of relationships, "We're your friends. That's what we're here for."

Apollonia nearly stopped mid-step as they walked down the stairs towards the gym.

'_Friend_,' was not a word often used in her vocabulary. '_Friend_,' was only used when describing the sociable companions of other people—people who were not associated with her. '_Friend_,' was a word she used to describe the tribes of men and women who flocked together, spoke about idle things of no importance, ate meals together, and visited each others houses, perhaps even sleeping over. The people of the varying countries she visited may have looked different, but the notion of, '_friendship_,' was overall international in appearance.

And in Finland a, '_friend_,' was something she never really had. Everyone she made accidental physical or eye contact with, everyone who inhabited her class, everyone that set themselves dead center in her line of sight she regarded as an acquaintance.

Acquaintances by definition were people she _slightly_ knew: she could adequately remember someone's appearance, and put a name to it if she tried. If she overheard someone's personal conversation, she could probably return it back, word-for-word verbatim, not that the information would stick considering it really didn't concern her. She could describe the mannerisms of others with ease considering her quiet and laidback demeanor allowed her to observe people from a distance. She knew a lot about people, but the same could not be said when flipped.

She spent little more than a couple hours with her classmates, spoke little more than ten words a day, and somehow they were able to manifest her entire life story and throw it right in her face as if it were an essay she was obligated to grade.

There seemed to be holes in their manuscript, however. She was not living in the slums—she had a fair house and plentiful food and water, among other utilities—but she as well as the rest of her family was cautious with their funds, and did not throw their money away on vanity renovations like her classmates assumed from her. They also seemed to make light of the strenuous study habits she had created for herself: she spent most of her time grasping for fluency of new languages for her travels, learning cultural customs, and grooming herself for the educational differences among countries.

In retrospect, her life's story written by her classmates was rather bare, rather shallow in depth, but that could not be blamed of them; because after all, they had not taken the time to go directly to the source of their studies and simply ask what she did out of school, or how her family life was.

She wasn't exactly offended by their comments—it was their own ignorance, and she could not force them to educate themselves on a subject they honestly did not wish to learn. So, kept her head high, and stayed silent.

So, for Ennoshita Chikara to be standing slightly below her—by just one step—and look up at her with that docile grin of his, and genuinely refer to her as their, '_friend_…'

She wasn't stupid; she knew that she had in fact been referred to as their, '_friend_,' before on numerous occasions. But after dwelling in her dark hole of self-deprivation after Asahi left and Nishinoya stormed out, she felt as though she were not worthy to bear that title. But with Ennoshita being able to look her in the eye and say something so kind to her without underlying intentions, maybe she hadn't failed after all. Maybe she could still perform her purpose. She could redeem herself.

If Ennoshita and the others could still accept her, maybe…

"Apollonia-san, we're going to be late," Kinoshita urged behind her, "Daichi-san might be mad."

Apollonia was taken from her thoughts, glancing back to see Kinoshita's sandy hair slightly fluttered by the afternoon winds with a bemused Narita standing behind him. She must have made quite the scene by mulling in her own thoughts, much to her embarrassment.

"Daichi-san won't be mad as long as it's Apollonia-san," Ennoshita assured, "Especially if we are helping her with the medical bags."

Kinoshita made a noise of understanding, Narita nodding along as well, before they followed Apollonia and Ennoshita down the stairs towards the gym, Apollonia reluctantly allowing the bag once on her right shoulder to be carried by the wing spiker. He conversed lightly with his fellow teammates, musing about upcoming assignments among other pleasantries.

She looked over at the three, self-proclaimed, '_Ungrateful Second Years_,' taking in the shape of their varying grins, the small sheen of light that kept each one upright and confident in stride. She struggled to keep herself scarce, to maintain a placid expression that was masking something warm, something soft that she was reluctant to show. They all had left at one point during their first year, when they could no longer bear the pressure of the elder Ukai's training. And truthfully, she was rather indifferent to their choice, but was staggered when Ennoshita confessed that part of the reason they returned was because of her resolve.

He confessed that he must have been a masochist to return and suffer her topspin serves and full-frontal spikes, but as long as she was _willing_—not even if she _succeeded_—in her mission of helping them, he'd be grateful to play on that court alongside all of them one last time. And after returning, he had never felt more connected with the group of people around him. He had missed that sense of accomplishment seeing his teammates praise him for a well-done receive, a perfect arch on a serve. He missed the pride of being next to them, even if he wasn't on the court.

He missed that connection that everyone had.

'_That's right_.'

She wanted to connect them, and to keep them together, to inspire them, to make a difference. For the sake of their pride, and for the sake of her own. She may not have been able to bring Asahi back, at least, not yet, but the so called, '_Ungrateful Second Years_,' _had_ returned. And they did so by their own will.

She brushed through the doors of the gym, her chest held somewhat higher than it was before, her breath a little lighter, almost energized. With resolve she set her medical bag on the court floor next to the benches after exchanging greetings with the people immediately around her. She wanted to prove that her presence in Japan would not be wasted. She would confess to them from high in the sky, loud enough to scale the horizon:

'_This is why I am here_.'

"Apple-san?"

But at that moment when Nishinoya's voice met her ears, her heart plummeted straight into her stomach all over again.

Completely.

Utterly.

_Broken_.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Next chapter should be a little more light-hearted, I swear. I SWEAR IT THIS TIME._


	13. Forgiven

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 13: Forgiven_**

* * *

_'Do you know pain? She is strong and great with secretly clenched fists._

_Do you know pain? She is hopefully smiling with eyes that have wept._

_Pain gives us everything we need—_

_She gives us the keys to the kingdom of death,_

_She pushes us through the gate when still we waver.'_

_\- 'Pain,' Edith Södergran_

* * *

_Present_

* * *

Somehow, it didn't hit him entirely until the bare soles of his feet touched his bedroom floor, dipping into the edges of the morning sunrise like the mouth of a vermillion pond. It waded around his toes, swishing and swaying against his skin, nudging him with gentle brushes too docile for something so immaculate and destructive as a dying star. It rose a little higher on his legs, submerging him a little deeper, before it was tucked away behind a rolling cloud, shrinking back with its fingers retracted, nervous, and frightened.

Seeing his back as he made his way out of the clubroom was paralyzing. That proud, broad back that was made of fragile glass. He had crumbled and shattered when everything he served was thrown back at him; he was overpowered. Imagine, the, '_Ace_,' who was supposed to bring forth a new day, and scale the horizon and ensure victory for his peers behind him, holding him up, watching his back, had fragmented into a million worthless pieces. They had been forced to sit idly by, waiting.

But as he anticipated for that familiar spectrum to be cast over his now-empty throne, Nishinoya could not help but feel afraid. He never called out. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, he never called out, not even once. And that sort of silence _truly_ terrified him.

Raking his hands through his hair, he slicked his tresses back in an uncharacteristically anxious manner, distributing the hair product from end to end with shaky palms.

In the mirror he could see the marks on his body, the reminder of his place on the team he once knew. They decorated every inch of his arms he continued to smooth his fingers through his hair. They decorated his legs as he tugged his uniform trousers up at his hips. They were like a second skin, blaringly visible on the court, but as long as he had the strength to dive for every return, they were invisible to him. He buried that pain deep inside himself, and willed himself to forget.

He was accustomed to bruises: he was a libero, and that was a badge of glory, to wear those variations of purple on his arms and legs. They were plain, and plainly did they sit on his skin. There were times where they did hurt, but it was his duty to endure and push through, for Sugawara, for Asahi, for all of them. Bruises did not suddenly vanish during a game: they faded away in time before new ones came to arise, layering over one another, each with their own memory and face.

He wanted everyone to see his bruises, to see the hardships he himself braved to earn his place as their Libero. He knew physical pain—he greeted it daily as an old friend—but never before had he been faced with the sensation of seeing not only Asahi walk away from him, but Apollonia as well. Seeing Sugawara so downtrodden that he couldn't do anything either. It was a scorching burn that etched so deep into him that it arose as ice, his entire body glowing purple like one, full body bruise.

Hearing their words touch his skin hurt, reaching out for them hurt, feeling the fall as he watched the two people who inspired him the most just vanish was possibly the worse pain he had felt in his entire life.

It would be his first day back, somehow it felt like a momentous occasion even though it was just a club.

'_She'll be there, and she'll be the same_,' he assured himself, '_It'll be like always._'

When he saw her walk in he nearly dropped the volleyball in his hands and ran to go and wrap his arms around the long neck of, 'Karasuno's Swan.' He was at first overjoyed. She hadn't left, she was still there. She was going to keep her promise. He struggled not to show just how relieved he was that she had not left them.

'_Apple-san?_'

But, something was different.

It looked as if the wind was knocked out of her: she was just staring at him, searching him. He could almost see her thoughts running across her forehead, flitting from eye to eye.

He didn't look angry, there was that at least. He didn't even look surprised to see her. He just… looked at her. His mouth was a smooth simple line, his skin was of a healthy color, unblemished and unwrinkled showing no signs of irritation towards her. His eyes were somewhat wide—though that was mostly due to the fact that Nishinoya had to angle his head at a literal ninety-degree angle just to look at her—but they did not shake: not with anticipation, not with anger, hurt or disdain. He seemed more curious than anything, if not by her presence, then by her demeanor.

Because, for the first time in the company of the newest first years: she looked utterly shocked, completely at a loss—not at a loss of words, considering she seldom spoke, but at a loss to do anything. She was so far gone somewhere else that she had lost the ability to breathe, her face turning a light shade of blue from the lack of oxygen. There was a stark fifty-fifty contrast of white to calcite the way her eyes opened: her pupils had constricted to small navy dots, her powder blue irises turning almost silver as if the color had been sucked right out of them.

She looked almost frightened.

Nishinoya was oddly still, holding the leather ball in his hands imparted by Hinata, his body already facing the court, his head still tilted upwards towards her.

'_This isn't how Apple-san usually is._'

He looked over the genuine emotion refracting back at him, the way it slid over her sharp jawline, down the uneasy bend of her neck, completely foreign, unlike the light he knew so well.

'_This isn't Apple-san._'

She grasped for something, anything at all before he fully turned to give Hinata his full attention, but she found herself shrinking back: she ducked her head slightly down towards her right, unconsciously bringing her hand up to slide her fingers over her temple, covering her ear and her neck with her palm as she tried to reconnect the eye contact she had sacrificed in favor of her cowardly ministrations.

He obliged, still staring at her with an unblinking wooden stare. She seemed to part her mouth slightly, searching for words that she would be able to use in an unfamiliar situation such as this: this odd, tension bearing air that seemed to crush down on her one hundred and eight-six centimeter frame.

Nishinoya seemed to linger on the way she held herself—like a fidgeting hatchling being watched by another, openly but from afar—scrutinizing the large plastic wristlet on her right hand. She was wearing the Karasuno jersey for the first time in front of him, but she seemed unaware of Nishinoya's contorted face, how he was somewhat bewildered by the way it fit her torso.

It was almost paradoxical to see a swan donning a crow's feathers, how even though it was in her nature to wearing grey or white that she could slip a bold, ebony coat over her shoulders without a second thought. Her arms were unnaturally long—so much so that there were a few centimeters of her wrist and forearm that no off-the-rack jacket could cover, often leading Apollonia to shift her sleeves up to her elbows, or constantly pull them down if she were not covering her tattoo.

She seemed different physically since the months he had seen her, but perhaps that was because after seeing her twice, almost three times daily on a regular basis, he had grown ignorant of any changes she may have made. Was it a haircut, had she grown taller?

Though it was only two months since he had seen her, the last vivid memory he had of how she looked was when they first met, merely a year prior. In contrast to the person in front of him, the past Apollonia was a couple centimeters shorter, a couple kilograms lighter, and was practically swimming in every article of clothing she wore.

But _this_ Apollonia—despite her ephemeral eye contact, and her fidgets and inelegance—bore shoulders that were toned, evident even through her jersey, and legs that seemed less withered, and more grounded. She built herself up, she trained herself, scored and shaped herself into something that looked impenetrable, something almost superhuman. She didn't look like the semi-pubescent high school student she had her first year in Japan.

Had she done all of that for them? Or was it just his imagination?

If it was real, it wasn't muscle gained through idle exercise: every kilogram earned was deliberate. She was mindful of what, where and how she fortified herself: knowing Apollonia, she must have done exhaustive research on how much protein she had to add to her diet in order to gain weight. She must have bought books and magazines riddled with exercise routines and stretching therapy, and must have gone through each and every page twice with a critical eye before acting on any regime. Apollonia was far from whimsical: she was logical, methodical in nearly everything she did. And she did all of this: this bulking, these exercises, all of the pages of prose and observations she had of them in her color-coded journals she did solely for them, she did with purpose.

Just looking at her, he had to admit that he was impressed, and flattered, but he was even more so relieved, but was cautious of how he portrayed it to her while she was so fragile at the moment.

Her body was strong, but her spirit had grown weak at the sight of him.

"OI!"

Apollonia nearly fell flat on her medical bag when Nishinoya stuck out his finger towards her, holding the ball on his hip.

"You've gotten bigger!"

Stunned would not have adequately defined her expression, but it was convenient to say that she was; she was just staring wide-eyed at him, her eyebrows sitting a little higher on her forehead. Nishinoya piped up again, taking a step towards her, small enough not the startle her less she run away from him.

"You're bigger, Apple-san."

Sugawara and Daichi straightened up at Nishinoya's proclamation, taking action once Tsukishima's not-so-stifled chuckling had snapped them from their stupor.

"Nishinoya, that's rude," Sugawara scolded, stepping alongside Apollonia's shoulder just in case she suddenly dropped from any form of shock the libero might have caused her.

"Nishinoya, don't shirk your duties. You're a senpai now, you should get started on teaching your kouhai," Daichi chided, pointing towards the first years with one hand while he thumped the libero upside his head with the other.

Nishinoya spun around towards Tsukishima still chuckling with a small smirk hidden behind his fist, being reprimanded by Tanaka when he didn't even try to hide the extent of his amusement. Yamaguchi stood somewhat behind Tsukishima, a little embarrassed that he actually had heard such bold words. Kageyama and Hinata just stared at him with the ball impatiently in their grip—most likely ignorant to the double meaning of Nishinoya's cry.

"UWOOAH," the libero howled as his eyes swept the four, almost glowing with the realization that he was now in fact a, '_senpai.'_ He proceeded to sprint onto the court with his arms out beside him in a huddling gesture, and yelled, "Gather 'round, first years!"

Hinata nearly somersaulted into Nishinoya's inner circle, much to the libero's delight, while Tsukishima grumbled and sighed, before ultimately taking his place at the libero's left, Yamaguchi nervously in tow.

Kageyama—seeing that his receiving was overall average, and could possibly watch from a distance—kept next to his elders. Sugawara was still speaking with Apollonia—assumedly soothing her from the prior scene she had endured—persuading the Finn to sit down safely on the bench with her bag in her lap, allowing him to slowly make his way back towards them once he was sure that she wouldn't fall over to her side in the fetal position, or something equally as undignified.

"I didn't think that Noya-san would say something like that," Tanaka sighed, scratching his head once Sugawara was back in earshot.

Kageyama expected his fellow setter to assure them that his words were harmless with a statement like, '_She wasn't offended_,' or something similar. But to his surprise, Sugawara smirked in a manner that was rather odd to see on him, before it softened into something kinder: a small grin that seemed to let on more than he'd allow them to see.

"I think he means to say that she's gotten stronger, even though she doesn't look like it," he mused, glancing over towards the libero as he wrapped his arm around Hinata's neck, ruffling his orange mop into an entirely new stage of unruliness. "Apollonia's always been weird about her weight."

"Even though she's been on a small hiatus, she's still has been working hard," he continued, "I think Nishinoya noticed that, but of course he lacks the delicacy to tell her correctly."

"Which means she must be anticipating playing any day now," Daichi hummed expectantly. "This was probably just Nishinoya's way of thanking her."

"And forgiving her," Sugawara added.

"Oooah, that's a relief," Tanaka sighed, resting his hand on his stomach.

_'Forgive?…' _Kageyama quirked his brow, stealing a glance at the Finn who still sat on the bench speaking with Takeda about her journals and notes.

From the moment she set foot in the gym and introduced herself, she seemed very responsible and in control of how she portrayed herself to the team, disregarding her untamable bashfulness when it came to dealing with Hinata of course. So, that begged the question: had she slipped? Fallen? Had she shown the past team a side of her that was unsavory, that _needed_ apologizing?

"Forgive her? What did she do," Kageyama asked.

Sugawara, Daichi and Tanaka turned towards Kageyama, honestly a little surprised that he was listening to the entirety of their conversation, even more so that he was interested to learn exactly what Apollonia had done to cause such an uneasy air between herself and the libero. They all seemed hesitant to speak, but Sugawara was the one to step forwards to answer his question—albeit somewhat vaguely.

"There was just… a misunderstanding a couple months ago, and they both took it pretty hard." He glanced at Nishinoya patting Tsukishima's back roughly, then behind him at Apollonia watching with a wary eye while she covered a majority of her mouth with her palm.

"They're two very different people, but they both have the same heavy conscience."

Daichi shrugged his shoulders, stifling a snort at Sugawara's implications. "But luckily, Nishinoya seems to have gotten past it, but I think Apollonia will take a little more convincing."

"She may not show it, but she's sort of sensitive."

There was a beat of silence as Kageyama made the first explicit expression in response to their conversation: a taken back sort of visage where his eyebrows rose under his dark fringe and his mouth a little more puckered than normal.

"Well, she's an over thinker, at least," Sugawara offered lightly, taking amusement in the awe that was unconsciously worn on Kageyama's face that someone as reserved as Apollonia could actually be _sensitive_.

"Ah, there he goes. You broke him, Suga," Daichi mused with a small laugh.

While Kageyama seemed to be going on a downwards spiral from their prior conversation, Tanaka had subtly led him onto the court to join in Nishinoya's makeshift receiving class, leaving Daichi and Sugawara standing at the sidelines. Sugawara shifted from heel to heel, keeping it sublet enough to where even Daichi might not be able to detect it, though the captain proved his theory false when he glanced at the setter with a single eyebrow lifted.

"She _is_ going to be all right, isn't she," Sugawara asked, keeping Apollonia at the edge of his peripheral. "She really does over think things way too much."

Daichi crossed his arms, waiting until his friend's attention was fully returned towards him.

"Uncertainty doesn't suit you, Suga."

* * *

It was only a few minutes into his unintelligible receive lesson, and already the first years—save Kageyama—looked as though they were hopelessly lost in a dark, brambly forest with little assurance of escaping.

"You go saa, suu, pon," he said with his arms extended out in front of him.

Had it been any quieter in the gym, they probably could have heard the poignant sound of crickets, or marbles sliding and colliding with side of their skulls as they each subtly cocked their heads, a unified, '_What did he say_,' plastered across their faces.

"It's like he's speaking Finnish," Sugawara noted casually from Apollonia's side.

Apollonia mechanically grunted in agreement without actually acknowledging what Sugawara had said, though after a short beat, her neck snapped, almost audibly, as she turned to look up at him from the bench. He aimed a cheeky grin at her once the teasing nature of his words registered; in return, the Finn contorted her face into an expression that explicitly declared that his comment was _duly_ unappreciated, if not uncalled for.

Sugawara just hummed, adding, "It's good to see you a blink once in a while."

Apollonia immediately straightened up.

"I blink," she retorted defensively. "Everyone blinks."

Sugawara choked a cough down before shaking with bubbling laughter, further twisting Apollonia's expression. "That's not what I meant," he struggled to say composedly, offering the Finn a light nudge against her shoulder. Apollonia sucked in walls of her mouth, and jutted her jaw out rather harshly as she turned back to the first years surrounding Nishinoya.

"He really hasn't lost any of his skill, huh," Sugawara noted while crossing his arms. Apollonia shrugged.

"He did, 'special training,' while he was banned from club activities," Tanaka chirped with his hands on his hips, "Playing with a team of moms and stuff like that."

_'How typically Nishinoya.'_

"Sounds like Hinata," Sugawara chuckled.

He glanced over when Apollonia had reached down to open her bag, pulling out a small orange booklet, opened it and flipped a few pages until she came to one that was unmarked. Without speaking she pulled a pen from her carrier's pocket, frowned upon the color, returned the pen to its place and pulled out another, one in black. It was almost humorous to see her be so discriminatory of what utensil she used to write in certain booklets: no doubt she must have nearly self destructed once or twice if she were to ever write in blue on a page riddled with black. She looked over her writing tool, scribbling a bit on the back cover to confirm the ink's color before flipping back to her bookmarked page. She began to make a few strokes that were hesitant in nature, glancing up every so often, before titling her head down, her writing growing in confidence, becoming lines and lines of flowing calligraphy.

Tanaka and Sugawara leaned in a little closer, finding that she was taking notes in English, better evident to Sugawara—as it was probably a miracle if Tanaka even recognized the word, '_volleyball_,' much less anything else she wrote. But it was not the fact that she was writing in English that drew them in—Finns, a decent lot of them anyway, were quite fluent in English—it was the fact that she was so meticulous in what she observed and how she wrote it. She was so _absorbed_.

Seeing that she was likely lost far into the abyss of her mind again and was unlikely to react to anything else going on around her, Sugawara took the opportunity to crouch down on his heels and lift the title cover of the notebook with his index finger, light enough to ensure that he would not disturb her, but high enough to see the word, '_Libero_,' scrawled across the front. With a small grin, he gently set the cover back down, lifting his head back up to see the words appearing on the page with such swiftness that it was a wonder they weren't just springing forth from the paper on their own.

"This is what she does," Tanaka whispered to Sugawara. The setter in returned nodded, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth—though truthfully, Apollonia was not likely to hear their conversation anyway, even if they yelled at the top of their lungs from either side of her.

"She said the University wanted detailed notes, I guess of our practices."

"REALLY?! Oooh, that's so cool, Apple-san works so hard for us," Tanaka all but hollered, covering his mouth in fear of disturbing her. To his surprise, she didn't skip a beat writing, her left hand still busying itself up and down the notebook, only stopping when she'd backpedal and turn a couple pages to re-read her thoughts.

"How do you usually get her attention," he asked, somewhat awed by Apollonia's impeccable focus.

"Nishinoya-san, who is that 'Asahi-san,' person?"

Apollonia instantly flinched, dropping her pen in her lap.

"Take her off guard," Sugawara replied wearily.

He turned his attention towards the person who dared to utter Asahi's moniker, finding the culprit to be none other than Hinata. What made matters worse was the sincere naivety the boy showed towards the subject, despite all of the upperclassmen around him simultaneously turning into large blocks of ice.

"Don't just carelessly blurt out that name," Tanaka barked, his shoulders shooting up to his ears. He leaned away from their libero—who had gone oddly quiet—slowly shrinking back less Nishinoya blow another gasket.

But—somewhat out of character—Nishinoya was more than composed.

"… He's Karasuno's Ace," the libero finally said. "Or at least, he _should_ be," he corrected.

"…" Hinata felt as the the color had been taken from his skin, leaving him a grey figure surrounded in black, the sounds all around him slowly fading in favor of silence.

'_Ace_.' They already had an Ace here, a proper one, one who was worthy of every toss thrown from the setter, who sat above them all. After clawing his way onto the team, he thought that the throne of, '_Ace_,' was vacant, and at most was just a golden chair, lacquered and encrusted with black diamonds at the top of a steep hill—just out of the reach of his childlike fingers, barely, but not entirely unattainable. He thought if he tried hard enough, jumped high enough, and showed the grit and grind of his teeth, he'd be worthy of that title, of the golden throne that he thought would wait for him.

But the seat was already occupied, by someone who was not even present, this almost legendary, '_Asahi-san_,' that no one seemed keen to elaborate on. Without warning, the cracked concrete and barren land under his stumbling heels had been torn out from under him, crumbling, denying him of his prize.

"Ace," he said, almost breathless.

"What's with you?"

Nishinoya's voice seemed to wake him, illuminating the chair once more, and the clouded figure that now loomed alongside it.

"I-I want to become Karasuno's Ace," Hinata piped, holding the leather ball firm in his hands.

Nishinoya made a noise of bemusement, before querying, "You want to be an Ace with that height?"

It wasn't as if his voice was terse, per se, but it was not exactly comforting to hear. The tone that coated Nishinoya's tongue was not appalled nor was it impressed, but a simple curiosity that needed a little more pressing. Hinata shrunk back somewhat humbled from his question, digging his fingers further against the pleather surface.

He flinched when Nishinoya bounded right up to him and slapped him clean on the arm.

"THAT'S AWESOME!"

Hinata nearly went into cardiac arrest with every rough smack Nishinoya branded on him, unsure of whether to be over the moon that Nishinoya was praising him, or positively terrified that his right side had gone numb after two or three hits. He was applauding the small middle blocker for his ambition, encouraging him to continue to strive towards the position of, '_Ace_,' laughing while said aspiring Ace babbled enthusiastically in return.

"ACES ARE REALLY COOL," Hinata chirped, his shoulders shooting up around his ears, unsure of whether he should me showing as much animation as he was. Nishinoya chuckled, placing his hands on his hips,

"Yeah," he drawled, "Compared to the, 'Ace Spiker,' the Setter and Libero just look really plain. Still…"

There was a shift in his demeanor, something a little more refined than his wily comments and outlandish volume. His eyes, always a polished chestnut, had almost glazed over, dreamily, nostalgically.

"… During a match, no matter how incredible the spike," Whether it was a vicious topspin, or a miracle slam, hurdling towards the earth like hail from space. "What excites the crowd most is when they see a super receive."

His arms thrust out in front of him, electricity traveling all down his sleeves through his veins into his fingers, flexing as far as they could reach before they curled and grasped that energy, trapping it in his body, exploding when the ball met his cradled arms in a storm of lightning. He could hear the crowd cheer, he could hear his teammates cries, he could _feel_ their energy reaching him.

"Even if I were two meters tall, I'd still play as a libero," he began, the sensations of every successful receive he performed washing over his body like ice cold rainfall, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. "Even if you can't spike the ball, even if you can't block it, if the ball doesn't touch the floor, then you can't lose in volleyball."

His hands were paper thin, small, calloused with swollen joints and jagged, dirty fingernails. They were red, purple and a pale color true to his eastern heritage. They were unattractive, but they were _his_ hands: the hands of an ambitious young man who yearned to keep everyone together, to make them one like the sky above them—free but unified, like a gale force wind comprised of a million colors moving as a single body.

"The best one to ensure that is the Libero."

His words sent a chill over Apollonia's skin, causing her fingers to unconsciously squeeze the notebook in her hands, wrinkling the pages beneath. It was that spirit that she had so dearly missed, that she was waiting to see. He had been cautious in the way he approached her, she as well doing the same. They were tiptoeing around one another, reluctant to fully display the oaths they wore on their sleeves, the fire that ignited them both—his untamed and orange, hers reserved and white.

But in the presence of these first years, he showed them his heart, the reason that he was given the title engraved on his back. He was so courageous, he always was, and she yearned to be the same.

"…" Her mouth had parted, the words slowing pawing their way up her throat from the depths of her stomach. Her foot had slid forwards, only apparent to Sugawara standing right beside her. He could see her grasping, breaking—

"S-SO COOL!"

But she swept herself back into the shadows, silencing whatever she might have said had it not been for Hinata's outburst.

"I-idiot! Don't just come right out and say it like that," Nishinoya retorted, "You wanna eat two Gari-Gari Kuns, huh?! Soda and Pear flavored, huh?!"

Hinata nearly jumped out of his shoes at the proposition, yelling affirmatives as confidently as he could muster. He was so genuinely awed by Nishinoya's speech, and looked up at him like a hero, a God of some sort. It was a naivety so pure in intention, so unbridled, so reminiscent of the first day she had met Nishinoya.

He was completely blind to who she was upon their first meeting, and without even a second's notice, was thrown into the fire alongside her for a three-on-three against third years undoubtedly better bred for battle than they—but after her feet touched the ground, the sound of her serve still echoing off the gymnasium walls—she had become something more than an acquaintance to him. The way that Hinata beamed at him with stars glittering in his eyes, it was the same way she was once regarded by Nishinoya.

Now Nishinoya was on the receiving end, being something superhuman to someone else, being someone else's inspiration.

In a way, it tore gently at her heart, that someone so deserving of higher praise smiled as if the sun had warmed his skin again, even though the light of day was still missing from their flock. It was a new sun that shone on him, something extraterrestrial, a star stronger and hotter than they've seen—but still young and inexperienced, unable to hold back those flames that could fruitlessly burn just as easily as they could shine.

"So—what is your special skill, 'Aspiring Ace?'"

Hinata's face fell somewhat, his hands coming together in a loose clasp, his fingers slowly tangling and untangling.

"D… D…" he began quietly towards the floor, earning a quirked stare from Nishinoya. "… Decoy," he finished.

"Why are you saying it with such a lack of confidence," Nishinoya quipped.

"Well, compared to stuff like, 'Ace,' or 'Guardian Deity,' it doesn't really have any sort of impact," he responded, his shoulders a bit slumped, his lips pursed.

"Nicknames got nothing to do with it, you know," Nishinoya stated, somewhat more diplomatically than his teammates were used to.

"If someone's spike can succeed thanks to your being a decoy, then the importance of your position won't change."

There was a heavy silence that had momentarily draped over them, before another loud, '_SMACK_,' resounded throughout the gym, Nishinoya playfully thumping Hinata against the forehead, laughing airily as if gravity had been lifted from both of them.

"Well, I haven't seen you in a match, if your, 'Decoy,' was so bad, then there's no point to it!"

He laughed, so openly without fences to stifle him, his back so small when facing them, but as broad as day when he held his hands on his hips, wearing his pride on his shoulders like armor.

He wasn't angry anymore, and perhaps the frustration he felt at seeing their esteemed, '_Ace_,' retreat had been momentarily quelled, but whether those demons still haunted at night, he smiled at them. So brightly, so courageously.

His spirit was always compelling, but right here, right now, as he consoled this young boy who was nearly his mirror image but a year ago wearing responsibility and a maturity she had never seen.

_'You've gotten bigger, Apple-san.'_

He... He had gotten bigger too—his spirit was overpowering, overwhelming, truly exuding the Godly totem they had created for him, that he had created himself. His body was so small, easy to break; but beneath those thimble bones was a spirit harder than titanium. It was chilling. Inspiring. His body was not the strongest, physically, but his spirit was.

"…"

She made a stifled noise, one she thought was quiet enough to go unnoticed, though her misjudgment was clear as Sugawara leaned in from the side, inquiring.

"Did you say something, Apollonia-chan?"

She tried not to audibly choke on her own breath, but found the compulsion hard to control. In an instant, her entire body clenched, her gums being crushed under teeth as her chest filled with air that she was unable to purge.

Nishinoya whipped around, holding Hinata's head in the crook of his elbow in a light headlock, both looking at her with wide, unblinking eyes. Slowly, Nishinoya let Hinata out of his grip, facing Apollonia a little more with his shoulder, his attention traveling from his flock of kohai, to her stiff frame, to the terror in her eyes trying to shield her fumbling thoughts from him.

"… Y-"

Her voice was soft, if not breathless, as if she were grasping not just for coherent sounds, but for oxygen itself.

But seeing the defined shape of Nishinoya's spirit, the superhuman strength that decorated him, the interior of his heart and soul and every inch beyond…

"Y… You've gotten bigger as well, Nishinoya."

She felt relieved, a soft exhale soon following after finally making her concession, the frightful and weary look now nothing but steam as they revealed the docile color he knew, that he waited expectantly for—it was an expression of pride, for him as well as herself. She had recognized his gesture, and offered one of her own, an offer of forgiveness for the both of them.

Nishinoya gifted her with a grin, a smile, a beaming light of radiance that lit them both from within, his light stained orange, hers stained ivory, meeting and entangling as if they had never parted.

"You think so," he returned impishly, running his hands through his hair as he looked up at the towering Finn, baring his teeth the more his lips parted.

Apollonia habitually let her hand rise to her mouth, holding down the edges of her mouth to restrain the urge to mirror Nishinoya's expression—a gesture that felt so foreign to her—and let her hand slide along her ear behind her hair.

Softly, she nodded.

"Yeah. I do."

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Thank you to all those who reviewed and favorite/followed this story, thank you thank you thank you! I'm very grateful to have such kind and loyal readers, you guys are the best!_

_Also, for those who don't already know, I have a tumblr where I have spoiler sketches, little comics, and Apollonia sometimes answering questions/ interacting with the Karasuno crew on my dash. It's all super fun stuff (You'll find me under **Bergliot-Manner** go check it out if you like!)_

_Also, for those who do not follow me on tumblr, I thought I should post Apollonia's Data here just for future reference for the upcoming chapters: (STATS ARE DUE TO CHANGE AS TIME GOES ON)_

**_Apollonia Eevastiina Manner:_**

**_Height: 186 cm_**

**_Weight: 66 kg_**

**_Birthday: August 25_**

**_..._**

**_Volleyball Stats_**

**_..._**

**_Power: 5/5_**

**_Jump: 5/5_**

**_Stamina: 2/5_**

**_Game Sense: 4/5_**

**_Technique: 4/5_**

**_Speed: 2/5_**


	14. Dormant: Rebirth

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 14: Dormant: Rebirth_**

* * *

_"What is happening to me happens to all fruits that grow ripe. It is the honey in my veins that makes my blood thicker, and my soul quieter."_

_\- Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

_5:05 am_

_Morning Practice_

* * *

Apollonia clicked the base of her phone, the digital clock displayed reading a little after five, bold and grey against her, what she now viewed as far too bright for five 'o'clock in the morning, off-white background. She willed herself to take the exhaustive step forwards, turn the key and open the club doors with the spare set Daichi had stowed away less he forget them himself. She pressed her forehead against the door as she sluggishly made to slide it open, eyes closed and feet dragging acting as if the extra force from her semi-conscious face would prove productive.

She flicked the lights on, and took a sip of coffee that she had dangling weakly in her grip—a light roast imported from Finland that she bought monthly off an online distributor—before setting it down in favor of unlocking the storage door, sticking the folded net under her arm in its place. One by one she carried the poles out, setting them gently in place, attaching the net at the accustomed height just under two hundred and forty-four centimeters. It was not a daunting task for her to take on her own, as she often set up her own net and poles back in Finland, both indoors and outdoors, often earning surprised reactions from onlookers: both for her independence as well towards the fact that even when she was just a young girl, she kept the net at the height of professional men's volleyball, rather than practice at what was appropriate for her age and biological gender.

Though, Apollonia was not one to abide by what was, '_appropriate_' for her age anyways.

Standing back, she looked upon the empty court with a critical eye, though regrettably, she found her mood somewhat soured that the glazed paneling and stark empty walls lacked the warmth of daylight. It was quiet, but not peacefully so.

She wiped once then twice over the court, the sound of her shuffling feet leading the mop from left to right barely legible within the four enclosed walls. After the floor had been cleaned to her liking, she picked up a single ball from the cart, turning it idly in her grip as she studied the curved lines of forest green, of flushing red, of bleached white, all side by side, yet somehow independent from one another. Tracing her fingers over every hue with a careful touch, she placed its surface against her forehead, the bridge of her nose meeting its underbelly as she lifted her face slightly towards the ceiling.

Above her were rafters, straight and precise, so that the sky was shut away from her view, and artificial light was replaced for their convenience. She could not see, only vaguely recall the stars that were slowly fading with each passing hour, or the birds, winds or rain that would cross overhead as she still resided on the ground.

Visually, she did not show to be the most passionate of people, but as Apollonia removed the ball from her view, staring up at the droning gymnasium lights, and the alder color of the ceiling beyond, she felt her perpetually chilly skin grow warm, paired with a slight jump in her steady heartbeat. Though the air was still dark and the dew still frozen, the bumps that rose on her arms mimicked the same sensation she felt during the stark change from winter to spring, when everything seemed to change around her. It was the sudden transition towards colors that felt better saturated, bloated with life and energy, when everything felt comfortably hot as if sunlight itself had arms that could embrace, and everything around her had gained a newfound clarity, and newfound vitality as they rejoiced the return of the gracious spring star.

Apollonia was not a firm believer in clairvoyance, she felt herself far too logical to believe something so spiritual or farfetched in nature. She could not rationally explain it, but she felt electricity pulsing through her blood, stimulating her nerve endings. It left her body feeling light and filled with such effervescent colors, without any blemishes of pain to hold her back. She could almost _see_ the light returning from its long await slumber from galaxies beyond.

Her skin was almost pink with life, as if it were no longer frozen, no longer a winter statue. She looked down at her long, calloused fingers, at the jersey that just barely covered her forearm, the bandage that hid the feather just beneath her skin. She held the ball out in front of her with her right hand, then took in a long, languid breath in.

"Oh, Apollonia-chan, you're here early."

And she exhaled.

She turned to see Sugawara shuffle into the gym, glancing around with a look of surprise taking place of his previously drowsy expression. Daichi was not too far behind, raising his brow once he registered that Apollonia must have arrived about an hour earlier than them to set up the gym for practice.

"Apollonia-san, did you do this all by yourself?"

Apollonia offered him a small nod, setting the ball back in the cart.

"Were you thinking about sneaking in a few serves before we arrived," Sugawara hummed as he tied on his athletic shoes.

As blunt as ever, Apollonia glanced at him from her peripheral before answering with a simple, unadorned, "Yes."

She waited a beat, taking in Daichi and Sugawara's amused expressions before adding, "I didn't anticipate you two coming in at this time."

"We're a little less strict, Apollonia-chan," Sugawara teased, pulling the hems of his socks up to his ankles, "We don't stick to schedules quite like you do."

"Also, we had a feeling that you might be here early," Daichi added shrugging off his coat onto the bench. "Looks like we were right."

Apollonia's face remained somewhat unfazed by their jesting, the visible clench in her jaw and the casted shadow that hung over her nose and under her eyes being the only indicator of her irritation. She stood in the middle of the court, obviously unsure of what she was supposed to do now that Daichi and Sugawara had intruded on to her private practice with the intention of gaining something from her, though she was unsure of what exactly.

Reading her thoughts as if they were posted openly on her forehead, Sugawara piped up, standing slightly in front of the bench at the edge of the baseline.

"You've been wanting to play for a while, haven't you?"

Apollonia lifted her chin, intrigued that Sugawara was quite being quite daring asking her such a blatant question, even though it was a simple one, one that had a simple answer. In response, she shrugged and turned slightly away less her true answer be registered on her face, her left hand immediately snapping up to clutch her arm. Despite the fact that Sugawara and Daichi could tell she was being dishonest, and doing a poor job at hiding it, they played along with her indifference.

"Well, if you're not restless, then you must have the intention on bringing back Asahi."

Daichi's voice was diplomatic, so typically, '_Captain'_ to hear; far from the naivety or hopefulness that was expected of the youth their age. He was completely sure of himself, without directly forcing her to act on his words in any manner. It wasn't a question or proposition that he was offering her. It was a statement.

"So, how do you plan on bringing him back?"

She snapped her eyes shut, willing her own sanity back into her mind, she tilted her head towards Daichi, sucking in her mouth and cocking an eyebrow as if to say, '_Me?_'

Admittedly, for a moment, she felt as if she _did_ have a plan to persuade Asahi to rejoin the team. But, from the beginning during the days after his departure, she had no intention to place herself in front of Asahi, for she had no empathy in her voice fit for speaking. And admittedly, she was humbled when she saw that her presence seemed to have little effect, for they still collided so hard with the ground, failing effortlessly even after they praised her for all the extra help she offered them.

_'As if any of my efforts did any good.'_

She felt useless, like no matter how much she tried, she couldn't even lift them off the ground, not even a hair's breadth.

"It is not my place to interfere," she said just as evenly as she had done over two months ago.

It was the same string of words she had uttered once before, hesitantly, and strained, but now, it just felt like an outright lie to hear from her own mouth. It still probably was not her place to interfere, but she felt the urge to _make_ it her place. She just wanted to try. Try something, anything.

Daichi and Sugawara did not respond to her statement, leaning in slightly with their chins in anticipation of the words that were slowly making their way up from her stomach. She looked at both before turning back to the court, towards the upper left corner of the vanguard, where his throne still sat empty, longing.

"He'll return," she stated tonelessly. "I just have a feeling that he will."

* * *

_"Fear cuts deeper than swords."_

_\- A Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin_

* * *

"I think it's going to rain!"

Apollonia glanced at the girls with their faces pressed against the glass as they watched the clouds rolling in, taking on a hard grey, something foreboding and uninviting, stitched with flashes of electric white just below the surface. She was admittedly puzzled: storms had not been on the forecast according to the phone's weather application, but perhaps the weather of Japan was turbulent in its own right—though of course, the weather was nothing compared to the people.

Many girls rushed around her—as if they did not see her large, skyscraping frame trying to stay to the right of the hallway—and scrambled for whomever had an umbrella, rather than just face the risk of getting rained on and dry their uniform once they returned home. She raised an eyebrow at their desperate claws and grabs towards their friends and classmates, looking again past the glass as the clouds approached.

They did not loom, nor did they drape darkness over the school, rather her skin had just taken on a light chromatic grey, looking about as healthy as a stone thrown in shallow water, but nothing worth making a fuss over. But she felt a threaded breeze—not cool enough to make her shiver—but enough to drop her body's temperature by a half-degree.

Her legs were still stiff, but were losing their mechanical creak, as if oil and wax were soaking her joints the longer her strides became. Her chest had slowly risen, the breath in her belly growing in confidence, her shoulders squared and ready to face that gentle expression: one that was sure to be timid, slightly down casted so he would not have to look at her in the eye.

But when she came upon his class, she was met with the back of Sugawara waving off Hinata and Kageyama, his hand going limp at his side once the two first years were out of sight. She could hear him utter a small sigh before he turned around, flinching as he looked up to find Apollonia looking down at him over her upturned nose.

"How is it someone like you can be so sneaky," he exclaimed, visually startled.

Apollonia blinked softly, her jaw still forwards, shoulders still high. To anyone walking by, she looked to be sizing Sugawara up, scrutinizing him, but her intentions—albeit contorted in logic—was to stand tall and solidly, in hopes that he would imitate her, and not hold his shoulders in such an undignified manner.

But Sugawara only shrunk back even further. He held his head down, offering himself in a semi-low bow to the Finn, gaining and understandably puzzled expression from her once he straightened back up. He exhaled sharply, as if he had shorn any inhibition from the words he had been holding back.

"I know you said it wasn't your place, but…"

He bit his lip, struggling not to apologize for asking such a request from her, at the same time struggling no to back out of searching her for help to bring back their Ace. Seeing that he had grown humbled by his own request, unable to finish it himself, Apollonia took the liberty to speak, though her voice was somewhat hoarse, the words feeling dry as they came up.

"I wish to speak with Asahi."

Sugawara's head snapped up. "Huh, come again?"

Apollonia's jaw clenched, though she tried to hide her curt reaction while still making it known to Sugawara that she did not intend to repeat herself. He looked at her with eyes slightly wide and mouth slightly parted, though was hesitant to speak, unsure if she would take the initiative to do so herself.

'_I want to try_,' was what she seemed to ask from him.

Though she did not make a sound, he felt obliged to remain quiet, as not to interrupt her, only breaking his silence in favor of a small grin. She closed her eyes, and left the setter with one request before she took one long stride forwards.

"Please inform Daichi that I will be a little late."

* * *

He had a rather difficult time staying focused during the meeting with his counselor, the words of the first years still resonating with him.

_'I want to become an Ace.'_

It was astounding that a boy of his stature wanted to bear that burden, a burden that even _his_ wide shoulders could not bear.

_'So, I want to see the real thing in action!'_

He almost had the compulsion to laugh. Ace… Right, that's what he once was. He once was regarded for his ability to deliver strikes that could not be touched, until he came face to face with a barrier that complete severed him from the skyline he commanded, and all the land underneath. He was rendered breathless, the life being sucked out of him by his opponents, these predators. Every second lasted days, every minute years as he met them eye to unwavering eye, until he could no longer look at them, or even beyond them. He could only look at the cracked ground under his feet, the only surface that felt safe to him. He had lost his voice, the will, the power, the drive to call for another, a simple, '_One More_!'

He couldn't. He just couldn't. Why should he, when his shoulders were stained with failure, threatening to poison any toss meant for him? He was ashamed with himself, disgusted that even when every one of his shots was smashed directly back at them, they still looked for him, through the fog, through the branches even as they plummeted out of the sky. And he let them down. Every single one of them.

"Asahi."

He jolted to attention, more than startled after seeing Sugawara and the two new first years to suddenly find Apollonia standing along the wall outside of the counselor's office.

"O-oh… Hello," he greeted in response, dipping his head in her direction, a bit taken back when she returned with a low bow too formal for a simple reunion of old club-mates.

She tilted her head to the side, a sign of beckoning as she made her way down the hall. Asahi obliged and fell at her side, his hands casually in his pockets as he walked side by side, in tandem with her.

She seemed to have grown a little bit taller, he reluctantly had to note, surpassing even his height, the height of their once, '_Trustworthy Ace_,' if he could even find the courage to call himself that. She was still the ever poised, soundlessly statuesque swan the team of his past knew her to be: chest straight, chin and neck held high, her face void of any outer emotions that could be perceived as vulgar or rude. She had a firm, '_stickler-for-manners_,' appearance to her—and she often was, being overly well behaved and excessively courteous—yet she was surprisingly tolerant of the antics regularly imparted by Tanaka and Nishinoya.

It was almost refreshing to see that she had not changed all that much during his absence. Maybe the team was getting along fine without him. Maybe they had found a new, 'Ace.'

She glanced at him from the side, seeing that his chin was tucked slightly towards his chest, his eyes darting up every so often to assure that his path was clear, his shoulders dragged down as he walked with his hands in his pockets. "You're shaken by a wall," she began, startling Asahi by the immediate sound of her voice, and the fact that she somehow was able to tune into his inner monologue, and bluntly air it out in the open for both of them to discuss whether he agreed to it or not. "But, no matter how high the wall scales, there will always be a way to see the horizon on the other side," she finished calmly.

The first time he had seen her in nearly two months, and she was still as poetically forthright as could be.

_'Classic Apollonia_,' he had mentally mused.

Though it honestly _was_ a little unsettling that she had come on to him without warning, waiting for him to finish with his counselor, and then nearly attacked him with her passive—albeit still undeniably intimidating—presence. She usually spoke without pleasantries and would bypass straight for the point of their conversation—a trait that Sugawara assured was due to her heritage, and not by any means intended to offend and or terrorize him.

"Apollonia-san," Asahi began hesitantly, glancing up at the Finn. He looked to be making an attempt to be bold as she had been, though his approach was far more careful and cautious than hers. "You've never been blocked, right?"

Apollonia's eyebrow peaked, somewhat intrigued that their slumbering, '_Ace_,' was somehow able to avoid direct confrontation with her, yet he still was able to bring forth her lack of empathy into their current discussion without explicitly laying it out in front of her.

"I've only really played since last year, so against all the matches I've played against all of you, no. I've never been blocked."

"It's a scary feeling," Asahi admitted weakly. "You're lucky."

"What makes you say that," she inquired with slight frown.

"Because, you didn't have to experience something like that out there. It can really paralyze you."

Apollonia did not speak, instead just lifting her chin up and out at the Former Ace, probing him for perhaps a better elaboration.

"You've never really looked like you've ever been afraid of anything anyway. Maybe Sugawara's right. Maybe, it's a Finnish thing," Asahi chuckled quietly.

Apollonia ran her bandaged arm through her hair, resting her palm on the curve of her skull. She had come to Japan, completely alone, without an existing relative who lived in the area to show her around, without even fluent knowledge of their culture. She was among people who looked drastically different from herself, who spoke a language that was more than just foreign to her, and met people and who looked up at her as if she were an extraterrestrial being dropped out of the sky.

She was not a foreign exchange student, she was an international student: had she been a true transfer, she would have been given the luxury of living in someone's home, having them graciously pay for food and whatever luxuries they wished to provide her with. Instead, she was obligated to go through obscure money transfer systems to, '_turn_,' her euros into yen whenever the rent was due for her apartment complex. As well, rather than being housed with a family that would show her around and inform her of Japanese culture, she was a shut-in living in an adequately sized apartment with a somewhat prejudice manager and questionable neighbors.

Her sense of control had shifted once Kalajoki's taupe beaches had been whipped out from under her, her legs dangling as she transcended the boundaries around the little country of Finland, towards the broad back of America, then again as she settled along the humble city of Miyagi. Her sense of, '_control_,' that she valued so much had turned more into a privilege, if not an unreachable delusion. Within the course of a couple months, she had gone from successful Sports Medicine Doctor in Finland, to the babysitter of a bunch of fallen crows—by her own will, that is—and even took the broad step of permanence by signing herself away to a college in Miyagi.

Finland had essentially been barricaded from her entry, that path no longer a viable route for her future. The only scenery she had been left with—the only thing that she now, was essentially forced to call, '_home'_—was Japan.

Japan, where the skies boasted a slightly different color, where the water was a little warmer, and where her rights were drastically diminished due to her race and biological gender. The Japanese ate differently, they behaved differently, and God forbid she tried to understand their fashion sense. Even their vending machines were jarring: she was perplexed to see that there were machines for peculiar things like school supplies—she as well heard a vicious rumor, or what she desperately hoped was a rumor—that there were machines that dispensed racy undergarments. Everything about the country was just so unsettling at first glance.

She was going to a new school with people who were half her weight and height, who were born and raised on their peculiar language, who knew the underlying puns and euphemisms that decorated their convoluted vocabulary, while she was left ignorant in their shadows. She was going to a school that wore uniforms, and actually had exams and vocabulary tests—something completely unheard of at her native school. How on Earth would she relate to them, how would she connect with them when she did not partake in any of their rituals, or indulge in any of their cultural phenomena?

Of course she had been afraid, of course she was _still_ afraid. Her control was essentially taken right out of her hands the moment she set foot in their country, because it was as stated: _theirs_. This wasn't _her_ Kalajoki, or _her_ home in Finland, or _her_ old school and _her_ old schoolmates. She was a speck of dust on their coat; she was under _their _jurisdiction. She was no longer the free swan she was back in her homeland, she had been effectively grounded—so to speak—by the almond eyes and foreign-colored faces around her.

She was scared to her wit's end, but if being born and raised in a country that was known for it's frightfully cold climate, passionately passionless demeanor, and heraldry of waterfowl had any impact on her, it was delve deep into her inner strength at the pit of her belly, and seek something new.

They were all merely faces, just little seeds buried underground: all of their coats were hard and waxy, waiting to spring forth and bare their individual colors to the world above, but still firmly rooted beneath the surface. They were connected. They were _all_ connected, despite their different petals, the different plumage of their wings.

Apollonia removed her hand from her neck, placing it back at her side atop her school bag, fingers tracing the zipper.

"Of course I've been afraid, " she returned, gaining a slightly off-guard reaction from Asahi. "I was terrified to come here. But, I became even more terrified at the thought of leaving. I don't know how your humor works here in Japan, but perhaps you'll find it funny that I am more comfortable in a country that I am a stranger to than I was in my own homeland."

Asahi habitually grinned, sucking it back down when Apollonia's face had remained unchanged. His stride had slowed, almost to a stop, forcing her to turn her should fully towards him, almost blocking his path.

"These first years together will lift you, they are more than willing to help you. We all are."

Looking directly at her, Asahi almost had forgotten just how frightening it was to look Apollonia directly in the eye.

They stood still in the hallway, the puttering of what few students still inhabited school far off from their location, the clouds now sparsely distributed among the skies.

"You're brave, Apollonia-san, but I don't think I could come back. I was completely overpowered out there, I wasn't strong enough," he sighed quietly, rubbing the nape of his neck.

Apollonia—to his surprise—made absolutely no outward reaction: no quirked eyebrows, no furrowed brow, or even downturned twitch of her lip. She had taken complete control over her expression, offering him nothing but a passive stare.

"You were not overpowered, you were given a chance to grow."

She reached into her bag, lifting out the object of her searching once she felt the small stem under her fingers. With a slight swivel of her wrist, she held it out to him.

Asahi accepted her offer hesitantly, somewhat unsure if it would be a faux pas to actually eat it, much less hold it in his grasp. He looked from his hands back towards Apollonia's retreating back, her stride slow in nature, as it always had, and perhaps always would be. It was a stride that suffered, and persisted, and never seemed to change in tempo.

Her voice was almost lost when she spoke, forcing Asahi to straighten up, clutching the fruit tightly in his hand as she turned to corner of the hallway, out of sight.

"We've both been lying dormant for quite some time, Asahi."

A thread of sun peeked through the clouds, illuminating the skin of the apple that felt so alive in his hands, boasting a red so vibrant it nearly glowed against his skin, with gold accents that looked as if they had been skillfully applied with a sable paintbrush.

"It's time that we all brave our trials together."

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Thank you for all those who have reviewed, favorites and followed! You guys are my heroes, and the best, and you all inspire me to keep on writing! So thank you thank you!_


	15. Not Alone

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 15: Not Alone_**

* * *

_"Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."_

_\- A.A. Milne_

* * *

_Afternoon Practice_

* * *

_SMACK_.

Apollonia jolted forwards as the flat, paddle-like surface of Sugawara's hand came down lightly against the back of her head, _for the third time._

She understandably looked up him with a hard scowl: one that was not inherently threatening, but enough to suffice as a warning less he dare thwack her upside the head _again_. Admittedly, she was too stunned to do anything after the first slap, and was only mildly irritated after the second, but after yet another fatigued yawn, she felt the tip of her teeth press against her open palm, effectively silencing her with an audible, '_pop,_' much to her disdain.

Needless to say, she was far from amused.

"Apollonia-chan," came Sugawara's typical scolding tone, "You shouldn't have come to practice so early. You're not getting enough rest!"

Apollonia refrained from speaking, as she could have easily turned the tables on Sugawara by informing him that her sleep schedule regardless of consistency usually resulted in aches, pains and sluggishness anyway.

Though just considering the thought she found it ironic—almost cynically so—that an activity designed to refresh and rejuvenate her actually left her feeling like the blood in her body was replaced with sap: too thick and too viscous to flow quickly or smoothly through her veins, leaving her feeling heavy and listless. Whether she got two hours or eight hours of sleep, she really felt no different: she was just tired. She was nearly always tired. It was constant that she should feel her shoulders tense up, her elbows to creak, to feel as light as a feather and as heavy as a stone at the same time. It was regrettably normal.

So it was no surprise that after accumulating only about four hours of rest, her body was feeling completely drained, as though it had been sitting out in the open sun for too long. Therefore, it was _also_ no surprise that—like clockwork—she would utter a soft yawn every seven minutes or so.

She could feel it again: that slow, almost suffocating, tension rising from her chest to her head, unintentionally letting her mouth fall open and small tear droplets to form in the corners of her eyes as she—

_SMACK_.

This time it was Daichi's hand who snapped her back to attention, though when she shifted to offer him a cautioning stare as she had done with Sugawara, she found that the Captain was looking sideways at her with his arms laced.

"Apollonia-san, you talked to Asahi, didn't you?"

Breaking the tight cord that bound his mouth, he twitched a small smirk before allowing it to wholly overtake him.

"What did you say," he asked, almost proudly.

"I bet it was something poetic, again," Sugawara chirped, nudging Daichi's arm as they both looked down at Apollonia—who, by now, had gone stone still, with just a dusting of rose covering her ears.

Trying with what was left of her energy, she willed the temperature of her body to go back down, and just rolled her shoulders. She had done what she had—whether or not her words were worthy of being called, '_poetic_,' in any fashion was left up for others to decide, not that it mattered regardless—but she took the leap and had thrust herself into matters she ordinarily would have stayed out of.

"I just said what I wanted to say," Apollonia admitted passively. "However, my efforts look to be unsuccessful."

Sugawara and Daichi exchanged skeptical glances before they both brought the side of their hand against the back of Apollonia's skull in a swift chopping motion, the surprise from their sudden reproach enough to nearly knock her forwards on the floor. She snapped her neck towards them, her mouth practically sideways on her face from biting down on her lip and cheek, her nose puckered from inhalation in effort to keep her composure.

Had she not been such an intimidating individual, it would almost have been an endearing sight to see.

"Apple-senpai!"

The third years were broken from their conversation as Hinata skidded to a stop in front of her, holding his arms out in order to avoid colliding foreheads with her. Kageyama strode up casually behind him, though his cool demeanor was greyed almost instantly as he slammed a loose fist down on the Middle Blocker's head for his excessive noisemaking.

Apollonia glanced at them both as they bore down at her with wide, inquisitive eyes: one pair flustered and young, the other deceivingly tentative. They gave a brief look up to Daichi and Sugawara, both who stood on either side of her. To the Hinata and Kageyama, they gave the impression of a pair of armored guards, leaving both first years unsure whether or not they were permitted to speak with Apollonia—as if they need permission at all. The third years held their hands up in a mock surrendering gesture, before backpedaling a few steps in order to circle around the bench towards the court so the two could speak with Apollonia in what little privacy the open gym offered.

Hinata—upon realizing that he had made a scene running all the way across the court like a wild animal solely to ask a simple question from her—suddenly seemed reluctant to continue his thoughts, though after gulping down a knot the size of his fist he had found his voice, despite the slight shaking undertone it wore.

"Do you feel responsible too, Apple-senpai?"

Apollonia's eyebrow immediately arched—more intrigued than anything that a seemingly timid child like Hinata could be so bold in inquiry when he usually showed to be too nervous to stutter more than her name and exclamations of, '_cool_,' at her. Kageyama habitually slapped the boy upon misinterpreting Apollonia's astonished expression as one of offense, adding, '_Don't just come out and ask it like that, dumbass_,' under his breath.

Hinata rubbed the bump forming at the back of his head, bowing slightly as he tried to reword himself.

"Sugawara-san said that, Asahi-san was the type who 'places blame on himself,'" Hinata began hesitantly. "I think that Sugawara-san and Nishinoya-san are like that, too."

He glanced over his shoulder at Daichi and Sugawara as they helped the others take down the volleyball equipment, lowering his head with a hand cupped around his mouth as he met Apollonia's eye level.

"You look like you feel the same way," he whispered.

Apollonia restrained the tension that threatened to sully her otherwise expressionless face, instead just puckering her lips before sucking them in, offering the young Middle Blocker a light nod followed by a falsely apathetic shrug. She was not aware that she had lost control of her outer demeanor in front of them, showing enough pity or regret to actually catch the unnecessary attention of the first years.

She felt a prick of guilt that her brief slip of impassivity had that much of a negative impact on them, enough to actually make them feel obligated to tiptoe around her when did not need to be preoccupied by the past quarrels among the upperclassmen.

She was holding her mouth straight as not to frown, unconsciously rubbing her knuckles with the pad of her thumb. Darting from first year to first year, she tried to search for what answers they were probing for, only to find owlish stares and quirked, mouths.

"I am their Trainer. At one point I acted their Coach. I made a promise to help them and didn't produce any results," she said flatly.

She glanced briefly at her feet, a bit unnerved by the curiosity too innocent for people like Hinata and Kageyama to wear in front of her. They were almost _too_ trusting of her, of her skills that her teammates had over bloated, and her personality that, while it _was_ generally composed, was still tainted with doubt and hesitation.

"I should have tried harder," she murmured before meeting them eye-to-eye once again. "So I'll do what I can this year to keep my word."

The two stood almost mystified by her voice, by her lyrical flat line, their mouths stretching as they resisted the visible awe tickling their faces. Apollonia willed the pink to fade from her ears as quickly as it came, sucking in her cheeks as she struggled for the right words to say to the two first years.

"You should know that those who suffer don't suffer alone," she began, running her fingers from the top of her brow behind her skull towards the nape of her neck, squeezing the skin and baby fine hairs that sat beneath her fingers by nervous habit.

"But, we feel as though we do. We all wanted to be there for the other, yet we forgot that we all shared the same intentions," she continued, her eyes slowly shifting from dark blue to dusk-orange. "We were all blinded by our sense of responsibility."

Kageyama made a small humming noise to display the comprehension that was not immediately evident on his stoic face.

"So, Asahi-san still feels like it's solely his fault for what happened?"

Apollonia nodded her head tiredly, smothering another yawn before she knuckled her hand back under her chin.

"He isn't the, '_Ace_,' because he's tall," she began, her tone an odd mix of weary and firm.

"Asahi is our, '_Ace_,' because he is our most trustworthy attacker."

Hinata and Kageyama's ears perked up, leaning forwards slightly to hear her gentle words muddied by her accent, quickly backing up again when she straightened her spine to a better dignified angle. She pressed her hands against her knees, rising from her seat and taking a small step forwards so that she stood between them. She glanced at both from her peripheral—first Kageyama, then Hinata—before stepping beyond the sidelines.

"He inspires us to be just as dependable," she confessed.

"If we aren't there for him, what's the point of having five other players on the court?"

* * *

_The Next Day_

_Afternoon Practice_

* * *

He hadn't expected much when Takeda had mentioned the group of brats—kids—that he was to be put in charge of. He brushed it off as nothing more than a plucky, young, try-hard teacher sticking up for these semi-adequate students by trying to get them matches they probably ordinarily would not have gotten without his name being tacked on to the end of their team's roster. A had it not been for the fact that they were squaring up against Nekoma: a school that was once deemed as their arch rivals, perfectly matched in games dubbed as, '_Battle of the Garbage Heap_', then surely he would have walked the other direction and never looked back, finding coaching in his old school nothing more than a waste of his time.

Walking towards the gymnasium, he blew one last wisp of smoke before crushing his cigarette between his fingers, feeling as though he was a student all over again try to hide the burnt stubs from the watching eyes of his professors. As nostalgic as it was, sitting idly in his past, he couldn't help but shudder as the realm of his fading teenage youth nearly manifested itself right in front of him. The steps were just as he remembered them, the door still as imposing and grey, shutting him out just as much as it shut him in when he lurched on through.

'_They really are just a bunch of kids_,' he mused as Takeda introduced him as their, '_New Coach._' In his eyes they were all fairly small and underdeveloped physically for volleyball players, the only two who towered over them being a lanky, assumedly underweight, glasses-donning blonde, and the other being a character slightly more muscular in frame, wearing a passive frown. Had he not had prior interaction with her, he would have regrettably mistaken her for a physically adept male, with spare gentle features to render his gender almost ambiguous.

But, he seemed to remember her: there was something familiar about her, though not explicitly so.

It was hard to forget that ghastly mop of hair on top of her head for one thing, as well as her throaty foreign monotone that somehow vibrated in his ears even when her mouth was still.

She was that straggler who seemed to always be stitched at the side of the older boys, somehow always in the center of their circle, though detached enough to render her forgettable apart from her jarring appearance.

She was almost overlooking the boys around her like a mountain overlooks a city, or the Moon over Earth, similarly to the younger boy not too far from her. In sharp contrast to the ordinarily rowdy crowd she traveled with, she seemed to have an almost tired regality to her: something he did not pick up from their brief exchanges regarding Nikuman and canned coffee.

He had assumed that she was associated with the volleyball team in some way: as in one of the boys' sister or significant other, considering that the flock of boys in black jersey's usually surrounded her—as if they were following her, at the same time leading her, watching her as well as watching _over _her. He couldn't exactly grasp at her name, or what her place was on the volleyball team, but he _did_ remember her, even past the hazy blur that marred her face.

'_She's wearing a jersey_,' he had to note, shifting his eye from shoulder to shoulder, to the boys standing next to her. If she was given a Karasuno jacket to wear, then surely she was either a stand-in manager, or an assistant.

But, the odd thing was: in lieu of her foreign face and nearly stark white hair, she looked more like one of _them_, one of the crows rather than a sideline observer.

"I'll just be coaching through the Nekoma match," he commented almost mindlessly, flitting his eyes from her towards the rest of the team.

"We've got no time to lose, so hurry up and get to it," he ordered, flipping out his phone. "I wanna see what sort of players you are, so we're going to have a game at 6:30. I've already called your opponents."

Daichi's eyebrows rose. "Our opponents?"

"The Karasuno Neighborhood Association Team," Ukai returned. "Now get a move on, go get warmed up."

The Karsuno team obliged, taking off in a light jog around the outer ring of the gym. The only two members left, Kiyoko and Apollonia, went back to the bench, gathering the water bottles and towels all together. Apollonia fished out all of her journals and had set them aside on the edge of her seat with writing utensils of varying shades, handing Kiyoko a colored pen at her request. Ukai raised an eyebrow, shifting slightly towards Takeda in effort to keep their conversation contained, less the two women hear him.

"Oi, Sensei," he grunted, "Who is that?"

Takeda's eyes flitted around under his glasses, searching the members running, though Ukai's pointed finger quickly redirected him specifically towards Apollonia as she picked a few stray balls off the floor and tossed them in the cart.

"Oh, Apollonia-kun?"

Ukai spared no delicacy by jerking his eyebrows upwards and crinkling his nose, as if Takeda had openly insulted him.

He was aware that she surely would not have a name that was traditionally, 'Japanese,' in a sense, but he never expected her name to sound like a bunch of mumbled gibberish coming from their foreign dialect.

Takeda nodded in acknowledgement of the look of astonishment on Ukai's face, chuckling quietly to himself.

"I was really self-conscious about pronouncing it at first," Takeda admitted sheepishly, "It's definitely far from what I'm used to. I was worried that my English skills wouldn't be adequate enough."

"Hell of a name," Ukai scoffed with his arms crossed. He followed her with a lazy stare as she sat back down on the bench with her myriad of spirals all around her, Kiyoko peering over her shoulder as she flipped through their scribbled pages.

"So, what does she do?"

Takeda lifted his glasses, straightening up his shoulders somewhat proudly like a doting parent or guardian.

"Apollonia-kun is the team's trial Medical Trainer," he chirped with a wide grin.

"As a _high school student_," Ukai stressed incredulously. "And she's qualified to serve that position?"

Takeda hummed meekly, rubbing the back of his head. "_Well_, she's studying under the supervision of a sister college, so we try to stress, '_trial_,' and, '_trainee_,' when analyzing her skills. But, she's a very hard worker. Judging from her grades both in Japan and her grades from when she resided in America, she's extraordinarily bright."

"She's American," Ukai queried, though it came out more of a forceful statement.

"She's from Finland, actually."

Ukai looked down at Takeda, his expression of disbelief now wholly perplexed in every sense of the word.

"Fascinating isn't it," Takeda mused, clasping his hands behind his back as he leaned over to watch Apollonia observing the boys with her head propped up on the back of her fist.

"If you want to call it that," Ukai grumbled, before he disregarded the topic entirely with a hard shrug.

"The team speaks very highly of her," Takeda chirped, somewhat taking Ukai off guard that he was speaking without prompt. "I do not know much of Apollonia-kun other than her grades, honestly, but from what I hear, she also plays volleyball, and very well too."

Ukai grunted, twisting his arms a little tighter, though he did not make the effort to properly return Takeda's statement.

"Once Ukai Sr. collapsed, she apparently stepped up with Sawamura-kun and the old Captain for their final couple of games. She apparently served as their Coach and training partner, though not very often from what I've heard."

"Well, why not," Ukai asked, a bit rougher than he intended to sound, "If she's as good as they say, why not utilize her skills to make everyone better?"

"The reason even for me is still vague. I feel I don't have the authority to ask something so personal from her. There had been talk of her bearing some illness, but nothing is concrete."

"So, that's why she doesn't play for the girl's team? It would make better sense that she play for them than spend her time here."

"Apparently, she's not interested in clubs at all, probably including this one even," Takeda chuckled. "But the boys have told me that she seems to enjoy playing with them, even though she can't compete. It's sort of funny, they even gave her a name last year. I'm not sure if it's supposed to comment on her appearance, or her manner of play, or something else entirely."

"What was it?"

Takeda turned slightly up at Ukai, grinning.

"Karasuno's Swan."

* * *

_6:30 pm_

* * *

One by one, the Neighborhood Association Team filed in, taking in deep breaths before expelling them behind a small sigh. They remained in a small cluster while the underclassmen looked at them over their shoulders with a wary eye, muttering to themselves. They glanced around the gym, pointing towards the colors of the rafters and walls that had not changed even after nearly a decade since they had been in high school, musing about old games and even older memories from their high school days held in by the four walls surrounding them.

"Alright, it's about time to get started," Ukai called, motioning for the Association Team to break their nostalgic stupor and get ready on the court. They obliged, taking their places while Hinata and Tanaka enthusiastically mirrored them on the other end, Nishinoya not too far behind.

He shook out his arms, stretching them slightly behind him as he watched Tanaka and Hinata sprint ahead, but upon seeing the first year taking one single step in the left hand vanguard—_his_ vanguard, _his_ domain—the libero's head had fallen slightly, the weight dragging down his chin and the expression that clung to it too strong to mask.

"Hey, what's the matter with you, are you injured?"

Nishinoya turned to see Ukai scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes before being approached by Daichi. Somewhat ashamed, Nishinoya turned, only the side of his left eye and ear to witness Daichi attempting to come to his defense, though the shopkeeper just brushed his attitude off, not that he was obliged to refrain from doing so—Ukai did not have cognizance of the baggage he had walked in on taking in this broken family of crows, and therefore spared no unnecessary emotion when he thumbed a finger towards the older players, saying,

"How about you just join the Neighborhood Association Team then? Our Libero has work and couldn't make it."

Nishinoya nodded wordlessly, moving at a pace that was a little more reluctant than he would've liked to show, stepping around the left vanguard borders, as if an open court like theirs even had borders at all. Even after the darkness that consumed them and the shattered glass that lay around their feet, his throne still sat in that one single spot—blindingly superior in every way, but still humble to the very core.

Taking a step in reeling in his composure, he loosened his fists—not even realizing that he had clenched them in the first place. It would be the first time that the broad back to stood in front of him would not be their, '_Ace's_,' but instead the back of an elder that he had no knowledge of, no ties with.

He knew he shouldn't have been so selfish to indulge such thoughts, but…

'_Without Asahi-san…_'

He just felt so alone.

Nishinoya flicked his eyes towards Apollonia, seeing that she was seated on the bench with an orange notebook in her lap, another in grey just barely peeking out from underneath it. She held her pen almost weakly in her left hand, tapping the underside of her knee with the capped end. She looked at him, specifically him after assumedly seeing his downtrodden expression, her short fringe pushed back so that he could fully drown himself in the almost apologetic hue of her eyes.

'_She's not playing either_.'

Her mouth was taut under the hand that was propping her chin up, as if she were trying hold her words back from him, yet at the same time she was so desperate to speak them. For someone who was not inherently loquacious, her spoken script often had a profound effect due to her carefully chosen tones, and the reluctance she had to speak—leaving her speeches to be regarded as, '_rare_,' in form, like something to anticipate.

But Nishinoya knew that she of all people would not profess what was on her mind, at least not verbally, not out loud. He was grateful that she tried to communicate a genuine, '_I'm sorry_,' to him from across the court, a simple apology for her failed efforts to bring back Asahi, and that she would not be standing in the center of their flock where _she_ belonged.

Her voice—no matter how quiet—could bounce off the walls and consume him, reassure him of the fated return of the sunlit sky paired with the waning night to once again restore life to their lifeless lands. But, he knew that she would not speak. He blinked singly and slowly, already mindful of where his eyes would lay next on his new, makeshift team of elders, his shoulders ready to turn, his fingers again beginning to contract.

"IT'S ASAHI-SAN!"

But as the vibrations of Hinata's exclamation filled the gym like light pouring through crystal windows, their eyes had breathed their first full breath, in tandem, sable and calcite with but one shared thought.

'_He came back_.'

They both did not move, still frozen with shock as Ukai stuck his head out into the club's entryway, ordering for the overgrown third year to get inside and warm up to fill another empty slot on the Association Team. Nishinoya proved the most mobile as his body unconsciously turned towards the steps while Apollonia could only tilt her head slightly behind her.

His fingers peeked out first from behind the sheet metal as he pushed it aside, his sullen face and downturned mouth quickly becoming illuminated as he strode into the artificial light reigning above them. His eyes did not move from the ground as he entered with his shoes in hand, his back almost broken over his knees as he tried not to make his face known to those inside, despite the fact that the more he tried to cower, the heavier their eyes fell upon his frame.

Nishinoya's mouth had become strained—contorting with emotions he couldn't pin down, emotions so vague that he could not even simply identify them as, '_relieved_,' or '_wary_,' despite his best efforts.

He just looked at him as he made his way to warm up, the Ace purposely running the opposite direction of all of them with his head tucking further and further into his shoulders, still ever timid with glass heart.

But, no longer was he able to hide from them.

And just maybe, he'd be able to admit that he didn't want to.

* * *

_Karasuno vs. The Neighborhood Association Team_

* * *

Despite being absent for two months, his body was still fit—naturally, of course—but there was also almost a _compulsion_ that his frame had, that it was unwilling to lose all of the muscle he had built from the thousand of spikes he threw, from the indeterminable amount of times he had leapt and weaved for a shot or receive.

He was somewhat out of shape, yet the exhilaration slowly climbing up his legs made whatever lost muscle tissue he suffered obsolete. The smell of the gym, the moving shadows of his teammates and his opponents, the ball little more than a colored blur flying to a fro over a small fibrous hurdle.

It all just came crashing back to him.

Seeing Sugawara raise his arms over his head, and carefully generate a textbook toss for Yuusuke, and watch the power generated from the elder's arm not only from years of experience beyond his own, but just from the simple trill of the game was mesmerizing. He was simply having fun: whether he showed to be jovial or stoic, he was alive on the court, like fire touching them all without burning them. It was the same with the rest, how they praised both setter and libero for their outstanding efforts.

_'I'm standing on the court again as a result of a shaky, indecisive return,' _he mused. _'It's disgraceful.'_

They were all bright eyed behind their glasses of experience, like children all over again flitting around the court: experimenting and playing around while still staying true to their duties as wing spiker and middle blocker. They didn't seem to blink more than once if their shot was blocked, or if a point was racked up against them.

They were next to fearless: adults among children, putting their absolute trust into a bunch of athletically incline teenagers as though they held their very life in their trembling, unseasoned fingers.

And true to form, Sugawara and Nishinoya gave themselves entirely, as if the past had never occurred, as if they never had been blocked once, twice or the thousands of times they had suffered together. They only looked forwards and ground their teeth, rising up off the ground: Sugawara with his fingers cradling the ball before sending it to those deemed trustworthy, Nishinoya moving like shadows in the wind behind them, anywhere and everywhere at once, yearning to make them all proud with his superior receives.

These elders were strangers among them, and yet they felt so stable leaning on both Sugawara and Nishinoya, both rising to the occasion to the best of their abilities.

He was in awe.

"… One more time."

His voice was shaking, timid and weak. But it was slowly mending, like glass stitching itself together again, melting away the cracks with gentle sunrays.

"Even if I'm repeatedly blocked, I think I…"

"I want to hit it one more time."

He braced himself for the reprimanding he expected to hear, the disbelief or anger in their voices that he had used on himself every single day after he had walked off of the court.

But, he was met with a comfortable silence, albeit brief.

"If that's true, then good."

Asahi flinched, turning to see Nishinoya with his head swiveled slightly towards him, that age-old cocked grin evident on the side of his face, surely mirrored on its parallel cheek.

"Just hearing that is enough."

He lowered himself, his arms held out with his palms facing up: in preparation, in anticipation and above all, in relief.

The tips of his fingers were numb from months of emptiness, cold but not refreshingly so. But the daybreak was slowly rising over the horizon, unveiling the plush lands and solid ground beneath them. It reminded them of the roots they all shared and that bound them all together, whether in the vermillion fires of early morning or the moonlit blue of the slumbering night.

_'My job is strictly to connect everyone.'_

From dawn to dusk and everywhere in between.

_'I can't fight in the sky.'_

But on the ground he was still heralded as a God by entities that sat so high above him.

_'Without fail, I will get the ball to them.'_

_'No matter how many times it has been bounced back by a wall.'_

He'd appease them. He'd fight for them. He'd protect them.

_'Just watch.'_

_'I'll get it through.'_

And like so many times before, as if he had never left at all, he watched as his hand rose over his shoulder, crooked with fingers splayed. '_I'm here_,' it said in a voice low, '_I'm here_.'

'_So, call out for a toss_.'

"SUGA!"

'_Ace_.'

* * *

_Second Set_

* * *

The beginning of the second set, almost instantly Hinata could feel himself stiffen in the vanguard, as if his bones and muscles had been bound together, unable to even consciously twitch.

'_Right now_,' He could feel the breaths still cleaving through his chest, though his body was heavy like stone.

'_I'm marking the Ace_.'

This deceivingly gentle giant stood ready for battle—a battle for his return to his throne in the vanguard, a battle of sunlight each boasting their own color, their own drive—and for a moment, Hinata could not move. His hands were held up in front of his shoulders just lightly shivering as if his flames had been quelled by a tepid wind, by fear, by his own inescapable awe.

'_I'm competing against Karasuno's Ace_.'

The true owner of daylight had returned, and regrettably, in his overwhelming presence, Hinata felt so cold. He was frozen on the court—not quite fearful, and not quite consumed with adoration—but an in-between that left him feeling hollow, chilled and a lesser player than he thought he once was.

How exhilarating it must have felt to break through three blockers with just one single strike, all by his own hand. Visually, he was more than just built to play volleyball; it was as if he were _created_ to do so.

So, who was he—this thin skinned, thin boned, inexperienced, less than an amateur, amateur—to desire to be as great as Karasuno's Ace, past, current, or future? Having all the tools to be an, '_Ace_,' to be a born and bred athlete…

Hinata's mouth twitched as Asahi whipped his arm over his head, watching the muscles beneath the third year's shirt stretch in an almost Godlike fashion compared to his meager frame.

'_It must be nice…'_

"HINATA?!"

He fell over with a loud, '_THUD_,' against the ground, holding his forehead where Asahi's spike had struck him. His teammates, as well as those from the other side of the net ducked under to surround him.

He blinked sluggishly a few times, pressing down hard on the swelling bump under his fringe with his interlocking hands. He groaned quietly, feeling a soft grip lift him upright before settling against his shoulder blades.

It was a large hand, each digit fully stretched to keep him stable, though the fingers themselves were delicately trembling against him. Turning to his right, he looked through the blurring tears at the rim of his eyes, seeing a distorted white and black accented figure.

"Hinata," came her voice, unnervingly urgent for someone who was usually so passionless in tone. Her face cleared, magnifying the worry that was stitched and ironed all over her face. Unfortunately for her, the slight furrow of her brow, and stiff widening of her eyes had given off a feeling better described as livid and rather than concerned for Hinata, only causing him to shrink back slightly away from her face, digging his shoulder into her outspread hand.

"Hinata," she repeated, this time with a little better hold on her composure, "you should rest."

She positioned herself on a single knee, holding her hand under his elbow to prop him up and lead him off the court; but Hinata flinched by her sudden fussing, trying to wriggle away without appearing rude.

"I-I'm really fine," he tried to assure, though the mark just above his eyes was still glowing a rather distressing red. He stumbled over his words, bowing slightly to their Medical Trainer to hide the embarrassed flush from her.

"It's no big deal, I'm used to getting hit in the face with the ball!"

Apollonia's face blanched; she blinked a few times, almost too stunned to properly react to Hinata's concession. She made a small noise of disbelief before Sugawara leaned down and expressed her unspoken command of, '_You shouldn't get so used to that_,' in a tone that was likely to be better suited for someone of Hinata's delicate disposition.

He nodded, slowly rising to his feet again, though as his head rose, he came face to face with the swirling vortex of poison violets and navy Hell circling around Kageyama.

"What were doing spacing out during a match," he asked, rather commanded. His voice was perturbingly low like rumbling thunder, the lightning lurking and waiting beneath his veiled eyes and the wrinkled bridge of his nose. Hinata immediately sprung back, ducking slightly behind Apollonia before he was nudged away, placing him directly in Kageyama's sights.

"Don't bother answering, I already know why," Kageyama growled.

"'An Ace is really cool, but me being a decoy is so plain and lame.'"

"'If I had height and power like Azumane-san, I could become an Ace.'"

Hinata flinched, his eyes slightly widening. Kageyama was being unnervingly composed, apart from the nearly feral scowl that had cut and carved so viciously into his face. His voice was even, but still sharp like a blade being unsheathed. And that terrified him to his very core.

"You're jealous, aren't you?"

He wasn't exactly wrong, but Hinata was reluctant to acknowledge that he was absolutely right. He _wasn't_ tall, and he _wasn't_ strong, he didn't have any of the physicality to become something worthy of Asahi's title, the Little Giant's title. The cast of, '_Ace_,' had taken the form of a lean, straight-shouldered individual who was genetically predisposed to be something great, to be who everyone else looked up to.

"What's so wrong, with being a little envious of him…"

He was eclipsed almost instantly, but it wasn't the attention being taken off of him that had made him feel so empty, it was the fact that no matter how bright he tried to shine, he's never surpass someone who was insurmountably stronger than him, better than him. He couldn't go face-to-face with someone like that, someone so obviously more worthy of the title he was childish enough to believe he could achieve.

He was no, '_Ace_.'

He was just a, '_Decoy_.'

"Someone like you, who's always been tall, wouldn't understand," he spat, angry, ashamed. These attackers, the people who stood in the vanguard, whether they were short by volleyball standards or not, they were all still taller than him, far more superior to him. But, it wasn't even the matter of height anymore.

"'He's not the Ace because he's tall,'" Kageyama began, his voice rising a little louder, over Hinata's palpable hesitation, over his frustration.

"He's the Ace, because he's the most trustworthy attacker."

"Right now, you are just clumsy with a bit of jumping power and agility," he pressed.

"There's no way you can become an Ace, the team's mainstay."

"But, so long as I'm here, you will be the strongest!"

"The points scored by the Ace, and the points scored by you," Kageyama began, "Are of equal value."

"So, do you think that your current role is lame?"

Hinata looked almost thunderstruck, as if the setter's speech had physically collided with him, and all of the memories of every spike and kill he had carved for himself. His hand was still stinging with the euphoria of curling and whipping down flush against the ball's leather coat, sending it flying through the blockers to the ground below. Curious fingers of fire and ice slid over his skin with breathless chills: of the remembrance of the summit below him as he ascended above them all, of the warmth and elation that such a small trembling bird like himself could actually fly as high as he had, and watch those below him scramble to follow.

"… No," he said, his voice uneven, but not broken.

"I don't think that at all."

* * *

_After the Match_

* * *

"'_Call out for the toss, Ace!_' Man, youth is really great," Shimada chirped.

"Saying stuff like, '_So long as I'm here, you will be the strongest_,' ha, high school kids sure are cool," Mori hummed.

"Feels like us old guys are getting left behind," Yuusuke drawled, holding his hands on his hips.

Nishinoya and Kageyama stood with identical shades of red scratched on their cheeks, their mouths puckered that they had unconsciously made such foolish quips and quotes during the match. Kageyama stood, trying to hide his face behind a stray ball that he had picked up off the floor, while Nishinoya had just turned around entirely so that only his flushing ears could be seen from the back.

The Neighborhood Team had been gathering their items together, whipping on their jackets as they all made their way for the door, shaking hands one last time with Ukai before they departed. They had slid the door open before they were nearly thrown out of the gym by a sudden explosive voice behind them.

"WAAIT! APPLE-SAN! APPLE-SAN!"

They turned to see their substitute libero sprinting over towards the two women who had sat out during their match, each with papers and notebooks and pens to pair. Kiyoko immediately stepped back next to Takeda, thus avoiding Apollonia as Nishinoya essentially _dived_ into her shoulders, causing both to fall backwards with a startled, '_THUD_,' with one of Apollonia's leg still overhanging the bench.

"APPLE-SAN, COME ON, IT'S YOUR TURN!"

Nishinoya sprung up from his seated position on her chest, running around to her bended knee and grabbed her foot, tucking it under his arm in effort to pull Apollonia out onto the court—against her own free will, of course.

"Nishinoya, everyone's going home," Daichi admonished, scrunching his brow while Nishinoya doubled back around and had begun to push against her shoulders; though rather than lift her off the ground, he only managed to press her further against her knee. Seeing that shoving her was doing no good, he flitted back around and tugged on her arms, pulling her towards himself and the court, though pulling a seventy kilogram giant while she was pretzeled around a bolted down bench seat was no easy feat probably even for the likes of Asahi.

She looked more exasperated that her papers were strewn haphazardly across the floor more than she did by Nishinoya's antics, a humorously contorted look taking her face when Nishinoya tugged even harder on her limbs, from her arms to her back to her leg, crying out, '_You're too heavy, Apple-san_,' when she wouldn't budge. Daichi took the liberty to restrain the libero, hooking his arms under and pulling him back: though Nishinoya was not without a prize as he waved around Apollonia's shoe before throwing it at her.

"You promised," he called out frantically, wriggling in Daichi's grip. "You promised, Apple-san!"

"Nishinoya, don't throw things, and stop being so loud," Daichi warned, pulling him in tighter, overlapping his hands behind his neck. Nishinoya only broke from his captain to place himself into a full body bow, groveling muffled groans of, '_Apple-saaan_,' into the floor. Daichi stomped up to the libero, tugging back on the scruff of his neck to keep him a safe distance away from Apollonia, apologizing the best that he could while still threatening Nishinoya with a world of hurt if he did not immediately cease his behavior. The Finn only nodded before she had finally risen to her feet, brushing off her athletic pants and retying the shoe that Nishinoya had chucked at her.

"I didn't know that she played as well," Shimada mused quietly to the rest of the Neighborhood Team still clustered at the door.

"I wasn't aware that she was a girl," Yuusuke confessed.

Ukai arched his eyebrow at Nishinoya's brash attitude towards Apollonia, a bit perplexed if not astounded that the libero had tactlessly thrown her to the ground, and begged her to partake in a game, going so far as to take matters into his own hands when she had shown to be less enthused.

"Oi, what does he mean by, '_Promise_,'" Ukai grumbled towards Takeda; though the teacher himself really looked no more educated than he was of the situation.

"Apple-san, you said you would train with us again!"

"Nishinoya, I don't think Apollonia-chan meant right now," Sugawara chastised, holding his hands up in a manner that was both firm and pacifying. "It's late, and everyone wants to go home. We can all start fresh tomorrow."

"You wouldn't want to burn her out just as everyone came back, would you," Daichi asked, his vice deceptively calm despite his hand nearly crushing Nishinoya's skull for his outburst.

Nishinoya straightened up, and looked up at the Finn, cringing from his Captain's hand still being firmly wrapped around his head, but looking at her in a way that read, almost ordered,

'_You'll play agan, won't you?_'

Apollonia looked down at Nishinoya, and with a slow blink, she gathered her papers and closed her notebooks: first orange, then grey, setting them off to the side.

She placed their assigned pens atop their covers, pushing them back so not fall.

She took a small inhale in, letting the cold, damp gymnasium air coat the roof her mouth, and with a soft voice, she replied to his unspoken inquiry.

"No."

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_A special thanks to **chinchilla donut** for sharing her knowledge about Japanese culture with me: if any of you have questions on Japanese culture, and how to avoid botching Japanese culture/ customs, do contact her! She's very kind!_

_As well, thank you so much to **Rakuen91** who helped me out on the Finnish spectrum to this story by correcting my spelling, and directing me to better translation means!_

_AND THANK YOU, to everyone who said they loved my long chapters! (Aaaahh, I got a little flustered, because I thought it would be too much for people, but I'm glad you guys don't mind.)_

_And, finally, thank you, **ChigUnnie** for wishing Apollonia a happy birthday! She was very grateful of that, thank you!_

_Feel free to pm me if you have any questions, comments, etc, or if you just want to chat about whatever. I'm a fairly slow responder, but I love interacting with my readers (same goes on tumblr.)_

_Thank you all, again, I'll get started right away on the next chapter!_


	16. Done Waiting

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 16: Done Waiting_**

* * *

'_What_?'

Nishinoya struggled under Daichi's slackening grip.

"What did you say?"

Her words—words that could surround him, and consume him, and fill him with exhilaration and rejuvenation—had completely broken him. He was left almost breathless as if the oxygen had been wrung out of his lungs.

"What do you mean, '_No_,'" he pressed, his voice and his face contorting into something pained, something betrayed. Before he could lunge forwards and grab at her shirt, Daichi had pulled him back, holding his fists close to his chest. He struggled for her name, but was stopped and admittedly startled as she hooked her index finger and her middle finger around the sides of his nose, digging into the cartilage as she gently shook his head side to side to—literally if not figuratively—shake his temper out. He made a whining nasal noise as he puckered his face under her grip, the name, '_Apple-saaan_,' coming out more like a muffled honk than anything else.

"Nishinoya," she said, stilling him to an odd silence.

He looked up at her from between her knuckles, up the mile long path of her arm to her shoulder aimed a little forwards towards him, up to the extension of her pale neck to the even paler surface of her face and hair, the color beneath her eyelashes flashing something crystal, something almost silver. It was so serious in nature—not somber or discouraging—rather it was commanding, assuring using an uncharacteristically bold voice that need not even be spoken to be heard.

"I'd like to say something," she said releasing Nishinoya's nose from her hold, before turning towards Ukai and Takeda and offering both a low bow.

"If I may."

The two glanced at each other briefly before Ukai lazily waved his hand: a wordless gesture she read as, '_Go for it_.'

Apollonia nodded before stepping back from the bench, so that she could face the entirety of the two teams: both Karasuno and the Neighborhood Association. She traced every mouth curved with bewilderment, every eye somewhat widened hearing her voice louder than they were accustomed to, some hearing her speak for the very first time. She studied them, their reactions that varied among the features of their Eastern faces, each distinctive, each a bit more complex than the last.

She could feel her ears catch fire, even more so when she watched their eye line shift, assuming that they had taken notice of her body spontaneously changing colors. Her mouth parted before it closed with an audible, '_click_,' of her teeth, her head fighting with all its might not to snap down to her shoes. She took a slight step backwards, before returning forwards, one of her hands immediately went to her shoulder, dropping again when she realized how rude her behavior was by being so fidgety while they were all patiently standing around her. She took in a quiet, shallow breath before turning her head up to them—positively crimson in hue—doing her best to ignore the playful smirks of Daichi and Sugawara, as well as the endeared half-grins of the Neighborhood Association.

"My name is Apollonia Manner," she began, chastising herself for not introducing herself in the typical reversed fashion.

"I am Karasuno's trial athletic trainer; I have basic knowledge of muscular anatomy, and training in emergency care situations as well as injury prevention. As part of my studies, I have been asked to document your performance, and create hypothetical routines designed to improve your strength and physicality overall so that you may avoid common volleyball injuries."

She turned towards Ukai.

"Whether or not any of my methods are used is the coach's decision, but I am expected to document your health and improvement regardless."

She turned back to the team, her voice slowly losing its hesitance, though her hands were still slick with apprehension, curling and uncurling, her thumb pressing into her knuckles against her thighs.

She took in another breath.

"The University also asked that I document your, '_decline_,' in the event that you do not improve."

It was the first shift in tone that her voice took—a sharp flip from stoic to something almost along the lines of… _acrid_ in taste, like the words themselves were toxic against her tongue, rotting behind her teeth. Her mouth dragged itself into a heavy scowl before her expression entirely was wiped clean.

"But, I will ensure that the word, '_decline_,' or, any of it's variances never be used for the likes of this team."

She watched as each player wore their own distinct reaction openly on their faces, beginning with Tsukishima, who was admittedly stupefied that she was capable of saying something so bold, so concrete, though it was not immediately visible for her to see. Yamaguchi and Kageyama both stood tall with their eyebrows hidden high under their fringe, while Hinata was clutching Nishinoya, his mouth dropped open in awe. Nishinoya offered her an infectious smile spanning from ear-to-ear, a smile that slowly crept up the faces of the upperclassmen, until nearly every older member of their murder stood, grinning, smirking, almost charmed by her simple spoken oath.

"Starting tomorrow," she began, smooth and assured, her shoulders straight, her eyes half-lidded yet somehow so unearthly aware of her surroundings, of everything, every twitch of their anticipating feathers and the flickering light of their restless spirits.

"I will devote myself to this team as your Athletic Trainer. So please," her voice trailed off, slow like smoke as she turned towards the shopkeeper.

"Take care of me."

* * *

_After_

* * *

"Oh, come on, Apollonia-chan," Sugawara chirped in a voice higher than he anticipated. He was shaking feverishly from his failing attempt to hide the laughter at seeing a one hundred and eighty-five centimeter giant—who excelled in stoicism and grace—absolutely plummet into a marsh of timidity. "Now now, you weren't _that_ red."

Apollonia did not respond, instead she sat crouched against the bench, her knees tucked tightly to her chest, with her medicals bags on either side of her, shielding her from any further embarrassment she was sure to subject herself to less she open her stupid little mouth again.

She hadn't exactly _intended_ to turn as dark as a ripened tomato, but considering that she seldom spoke to more than two people at once, and was accustomed to using a voice much softer than the one she had worn during her speech, it wasn't _that_ farfetched that her entire body go from a healthy alabaster to poppy red in within the blink of an eye.

She had a drawn, exasperated look to her—one of regret and wearied jadedness—that she actually had the _gall_ to speak the way that she had. It would have probably benefited her to instead have simply bowed an excessively low bow to Ukai and said, _'I will do my best_,' and be done with it rather than waste her breath coming up with some pseudo-affirming speech like she had.

Instead, she had done something completely out of character and had unconsciously made a mockery of herself—_again_—and had possibly insulted Ukai by nearly _forcing_ her help on him when he was her superior, and thus did not even have to spare her a glance if it did not suit him.

Not to mention, she could still hear the playful titters of the Neighborhood Team ringing in her ears.

_"Man, youth sure is great!"_

_"That's quite an accent! You must be one of those international students!"_

_"Where from? America? Russia?"_

_"Ukai-san, you have such cool kouhai!"_

It really didn't help that after realizing she had made such a spectacle of herself, she had become a senseless, flustered mess and apparently had—on the spot—lost any prior knowledge and understanding she had of how to properly use honoring suffixes—not that she knew how to in the first place—and thus suffered a truly _humiliating_ end after she adorned the Neighborhood Team completely straight-faced with titles like, '_Takinoue-senpai,_' and '_Shimada-chan_.'

The two only stifled a small cough—saving her what little dignity she had left—though Shimada showed to be a little less enthusiastic and a bit more humbled than Yuusuke to be addressed in such a, '_cute_,' albeit disrespectful manner.

Ukai only groaned and pressed his middle finger and thumb against the edge of his eyebrows, sweeping his fingers under his eyes until he was pinching the bridge of his nose after she had made the faux pas of calling him, '_Mister_ _Ukai, sir._'

After reminiscing the situation that had occurred merely minutes earlier, Apollonia brought her hands up to her temples, restlessly smoothing her pointed sideburns down on her cheeks until her face again turned red. Whether it was from friction or reliving her embarrassment, really both were worthy of argument. Ukai crossed his arms, knitting his eyebrows together at the demeanor of this previously steadfast foreigner. For someone who keep such a calm pokerface, she seemed to be easily shaken by somewhat trivial things: like speaking in front of others and misusing suffixes in casual company.

"Oi," he finally called after she seemed to have calmed down, motioning with a tilt of his head that read, '_Come here_.'

Apollonia obliged and rose from her seated position, taking three slow steps around the bench before she was standing right in front of him. He ushered her brusquely towards the door while the rest of the Karasuno members returned to stowing away the volleyball supplies, not without a quick look over their shoulders as Ukai led her out of the gym.

* * *

_"Extra Help."_

* * *

Once they reached the threshold separating the gym from the crisp evening air, Ukai's footsteps had slowed, placing them both out on the ledge with only the vague glow of the lights inside partially illuminating their faces.

His eyebrows had drawn to search her face in the dark, though when he found that standing almost nose to nose with her, his jaw clenched, only slightly. She was not only taller than he had anticipated, but she also bore a presence that was rather prominent, despite the introverted personality she had worn in the general public.

When they seldom had interacted with one another, he was often sitting down with his paper and cigarette while she stood behind her friends as they ordered Nikuman. She usually showed to be aloof: always looking off to the side at the street outside, or to something higher over his head, but never directly at him.

Then, during the times where she was seated reading sport's medicine journals or self-help books regarding Japanese language, he was standing behind her, dusting off shelves and restocking products—oddly making more noise than she would; something he found truly bizarre for a teenaged girl.

All in all: she was not the run of the mill high school student with just a bit of foreign blood and tall stature he had assumed that she was. For a young girl, she was well mannered when she spoke, and generally stoic as opposed to her giggling and gossiping counterparts. She made great use of her impeccable height, stretching herself a little taller so that Ukai actually had to physically tilt his head by barely a degree just to meet her eye line.

"Apollonia, right," he asked, trying his best to pronounce her name as Takeda had. He could still tell that he was far from eloquent, especially with an odd tasting name like hers on his mumbling tongue. Still, his articulation must have sufficed, for Apollonia offered him a soft nod before blinking a slow lazy blink.

Ukai grunted, bracing himself up a little straighter as well before resting his hands on his elbows.

"I just have a few questions for you," he began, trying to keep his voice from sounding too demanding, though considering her imposing presence, it probably wouldn't have even dented the surface of her at all. Apollonia nodded again, allowing Ukai the room to speak.

"Why are you helping the boy's volleyball team?"

Apollonia spared him another blink, tilting her head slightly as if the question were one of the most absurd inquires to ever be asked of her.

"Because, they asked me to."

Ukai's eyebrow went from drawn to arched almost instantly—borderline amused that she could be so bitingly frank, yet at the same time, so stupidly sincere.

"Is there a reason why you don't help out the girl's team," he asked, moving his hands off his elbows into the pockets of his tracksuit.

"They didn't ask," she deadpanned, this time earning a soft snort from the shopkeeper.

"Alright then," he returned, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as if he were physically moving the conversation in another direction. "Takeda informed me that you play, or you did. So, what was your place on the court?"

Apollonia sucked in a bit of her cheek before letting it go with an audible, '_pop_,' as she opened her mouth to answer.

"Middle Blocker."

Ukai nodded before tilting his nose up at her.

"Your receives?"

"Average."

"Setting?"

"Average."

"Stamina?"

"Below average," she answered with a bit of a clipped edge.

To her surprise, Ukai cracked a wolfish grin before it was hidden by his raised fist.

"Straight-shooter aren't you," he said with a hollow cough. "Okay."

Again, he shifted his posture; this time leaning against the half-parted door with his head slightly forwards looking at those inside still packing up the volleyball equipment.

"What was it that you brought to the court that these boys didn't have?"

Apollonia too glanced inside: watching as Hinata nearly leapt over Kageyama in order to bounce up towards Asahi, the setter not even hiding his disdain by pulling back on Hinata's collar to possibly—if not certainly—yell at him while the rest of the team members only watched with tired smiles and soft chuckles.

"My volleyball technique is honestly nothing special."

It was not prodigious, nor was it entirely unique to her per se. She had a definite style to how she played, but that style was not innately hers: it was just the manifestation of black and white words and overheard instructions that she had accumulated throughout her years. It was memorization and practice—hours and hours of equal reading and doing, both leaving her more than drained at the end of the day, though everyday slowly building her tolerance for the sport, building the awareness she had of her body and its complex composition.

"It's just textbook volleyball," she shrugged.

Ukai's head recoiled slightly, the tips of his hairs pressing against the metal as he turned his nose up at her, before dipping briefly as a sign for her to continue.

"I am not valuable on the court: I'm not fast, I do not have quick reflexes, and my body is easily exhausted and slow to heal. But, I know how to manage the amount of energy I expend."

Ukai pursed his lips, cocking them off to the side as he knitted his eyebrows together.

"You're not new to the sport, are you," he asked.

Apollonia shook her head.

"Can you play with a higher net height?"

"I've always kept the net at two hundred and forty-three centimeters."

He seemed taken back. "By choice?"

Apollonia shrugged, neither denying nor confirming Ukai's question—mostly because she was reluctant to admit that she was not aware that women and men's net height differed at all; and thus just kept playing at the '_boy's standard_.'

Ukai clicked his tongue as though he were not quite sure whether to be impressed, intrigued or something else entirely by this foreign character.

"Alright," he said, wiping the underside of his nose with the back of his thumb. He made to stride past the doors back into the gym before her voice rose to stop him.

"You are understandably hesitant of a student taking such a serious role."

"Well, it is uncommon that someone train to be a Sport's Medicine Doctor when they're still in high school," he retorted. "Also, you used to take part in practices with them. Why?"

"Because, they asked," she repeated, though this time Ukai could not help but utter a grunt behind a small grin.

"So, do you want to be included in practices this year too?"

She hesitated, a little taken of guard that he had just come out and asked her without much prompt. There was a small beat before she spoke again.

"I didn't want to come back and play. I just want," she seemed unsatisfied with her choice of tense, "I wanted to be just their Medic."

Upon obtaining her papers regarding the routine she was require to take upon herself being a trial athletic trainer—papers that explicitly listed all of the obligations she was expected to accept wholeheartedly—she had come to acknowledge her heavy workload.

"I told them I would assist them, but I never intended to continue playing." She leaned her head slightly forwards, her nose and edge of her lips catching the light as she looked in on the boys as they struggled to take down the net without tangling it. "They're talented, and hardworking, so there is no reason for me to intrude on practices like I did last year."

But, after watching the boys take the court without her, her logical planning was again thrown right out the window.

"Honestly, my place here is not significant," she said, simply, frankly, almost like it was a factual statement rather than her own personal opinion. It was not self-pitying: it was certain. "I'm just extra help."

But her help that was solely for their medical benefit, and hers as well, and how she was so sure she wouldn't stand in the vanguard where they were so proud to place her… All of her preplanning and rationale had been washed away when it hit her—when it solidly _hit_ her—that she wouldn't be so much as tossing to them. That realization had put her in a grey haze, where sound was comprised of drones and unintelligible hums, where everything around her was formless and foggy. All in all, it had begun feeling a lot like early mornings in back home for her, mornings where the sunlight was lacking and the temperature was stably cold.

"I don't know why, but…" Her hand went to her right arm by habit, her thumb and index finger sliding under the fabric of her jersey over her bandages. She pushed her sleeve up before tugging it back down towards her wrist, though the fabric could not stretch far enough to entirely cover her from night's breath. "I still want to play with them, even though my place here is not important," she stated before offering herself in a waist-deep bow. "But, at the same time, I do not want to play. My apologies if I'm being selfish or confusing."

To her surprise, she was neither met with silence or a sharp, witted retort. Instead, she was met with a light scoff, paired with one eyebrow straight and the other somewhat cocked. It was not an amused expression—but it didn't look to be offended either.

"You're quick to tear yourself down after you just built yourself up," he quipped, borderline rough in nature—though that was possibly more his personality than anything else. "I haven't even seen anything from you yet," he drawled, sticking his hands in his pockets again. "Tomorrow, just forget everything and take it from there."

With a brief nod of his head, he dismissed her, turning back towards the door. He made it about three steps inside before he was called back.

"Ukai-san."

She had one foot settled under the threshold behind him while the rest of her body was still outside, eclipsed by darkness. Ukai paused, allowing her the room to speak, backing up slightly when she leaned slightly forwards to place the entirety of herself back into the gym under the artificial lamplight. Even with her skin no longer shades of silver and gold being stuck in limbo between the night and the artificial day created by the gym light, she looked no less imposing standing in front of him.

"I will show you that I am capable of being this team's medic."

Ukai regarded her only with a brief show of tension in his jaw, clenching it subtly so that he would not mistakenly present himself as insulted by her promise. Truthfully he tried to display his vague curiosity of her in his own brusque manner without openly saying, '_You really are a strange one, aren't you?_'

He nodded, mostly to himself as she passed him by and turned towards her bags, digging out the rest of her journals and stacking them—assumedly in a certain order by her meticulously turning and tucking of loose pages—before she turned back to him, holding them out at his chest. He took them with a light grip, the top spiral being grey with, '_Wing Spikers_,' written on its cover in delicate English.

"These are my notes," she clarified before making her way out on the court.

"Do what you want, I'd just like you to see them the way that I see them."

* * *

Truthfully, he was a little reluctant to actually sit down and read her notes; fearing—not really fear, but rather he was wary of—finding her notes to just be a bunch of garbled nonsense. He expected fleeting thoughts and quick bullet points about nothing more than the superficial nature of their muscles or build: like a gushing teenage girl's diary. He expected maybe little thoughts here and there on how they should just strengthen and bulk up their arms, but totally disregard the leg and back muscles. He expected many things from her journals without even cracking a single page.

What he did _not_ expect was for her notes to be so utterly… _detailed_.

They were almost _explicitly_ detailed: they were so thorough and meticulous, so far beyond the comprehension of a normal high school student, that Ukai had to close the spiral, snap his eyes shut for a few seconds, then peek again just to make sure that he was reading everything correctly.

Her Japanese was noticeably trained: it lacked the fluidity of casual speech—looking more like an Englishman completing advanced Japanese coursework rather than someone's notes—and there were still some misspellings and grammar flubs that took the course of her sentences entirely off topic, but for the most part, they were legible.

Her writing was small, and lacked the delicacy that many girls practiced, bearing a form that was more austere than, '_cute_.' Honestly, it was rather heavy handed, though it was apparent that she tried her best to make smooth, thin calligraphic strokes—still, the art was lost in the areas where her pen had bled and smeared. The only area of confidence she had was in her English; which was swiftly written, though scarce—assumedly to appease her Japanese professors by maintaining what eloquence she could in their official language.

But, in her small, heavy handed, unnecessarily polite penmanship, were lines and lines and _lines_ of topics from muscle growth, to body composition, changes in sweat rate, energy efficiency, strength changes, _everything_.

And he was only on the first page.

**_Sawamura Daichi_**_:_

_Third Year ; Age: 17 ; Height: 176.8 centimeters ; Weight: 70.1 kilograms ; Position: Wing Spiker/ Captain_

**_Synopsis_**_:_

_Daichi has shown massive growth since his second year on the volleyball team: increasing his strength not only in his body but in his technique. He has instilled it as a personal goal to improve his range of motion and reflex so that he may be able to expand his defense and provide superior receives for his teammates whether for immediate spiking purposes or ball recovery._

_Daichi has taken his position as Team Captain with very sturdy shoulders: he remains diplomatic, and disciplined while watching after his teammates to ensure that he remains as reliable pillar of support among the other players. He is able to keep a cool head on the court even in trying times, and does his best to keep morale upbeat and positive. He has a tenacity that keeps his presence from being doused, even when he faces trials or walls that seem beyond his reach._

_Health-wise, Daichi would benefit from lower-body training. While he has a solid mesomorph build, his hip flexors need to be trained in both strength and flexibility. His upper body is well developed, and his shoulders are well toned to accommodate the weight of his arms, though his triceps and the muscles along his back—primarily his scapular stabilizer muscles_—would benefit from endurance training._ This will allow him to better hold up his arms—both which have shown to increase in strength (exact calculation unknown; rough guestimate is that he is able to handle about two more kilograms of pressure during blocks and receives.) With proper strengthening and a mindful eye regarding his form, he will steadily improve more than he has already shown and solidify himself as not only a Captain to be regarded for his verbal communication, but for his talent to lead by example as well, boasting superior form and superior technique._

Ukai held in the smoke behind his closed mouth.

And that was just the _synopsis_.

From then on for at least four or five more pages were musings that picked apart the fibers in his arm, up his shoulder, down his core, all the way to the individual muscles in his ankle one by one, not in an inappropriate manner, but in a—literal—medical sense, an almost business-like approach to his body as if she were listing the cogs and wheels in a machine rather than a human being. She knew the workings of his body as if she had _built_ him with her own two hands.

Ukai was speechless, if not amazed. He flipped a few more pages where she skillfully listed all of Asahi's accomplishments as well as faults, followed by Tanaka, then Ennoshita, and finally, Kinoshita. Placed neatly within the journal was a piece of scratch paper that outlined exercise routines for each individual regarding how they could strengthen and tone themselves to avoid potential injuries and polish their skills in order to better themselves. She noted Asahi's subpar serve, Ennoshita's lackluster reflexes among the other weaknesses that decorated the wing spikers, and prepared an answer on how to counteract it.

"Well, shit," he huffed, blowing a bit of smoke from his nose.

These notes were not just sidelines scribbles he thought that they would be; she had gone back and fleshed everything out scrupulously down to the very last, miniscule detail—probably suffering a few sleepless nights and groggy days in order to properly analyze and design workout plans. She went to great lengths to sound eloquent and competent for these high school students when she was still one herself.

He skimmed through her other spirals, finding the same, painstakingly detailed observations posted up and down the pages front and back, accented with hypothetical numbers for data—though there were bits and pieces of percentages and crude division in the margins to show that her efforts were not entirely from the top of her head, but actually _calculated_ in some sort of way.

Ukai dropped the books at his feet, shaking his head and almost snorting in disbelief.

Takeda wasn't kidding when he deemed her to be, '_extraordinarily bright_.'

He looked down at the books spread around him while he sat cross-legged on his floor, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth so he wouldn't be washing his cigarette smell over her journals. Out of each journal he took the scratch papers with each player's recommended training regimen and set them off to the side for further evaluation. He stacked the journals and set them on his table, tucking the papers under his arm as he made his way towards his bedroom for a bit of light reading before he fell asleep.

"Alright kid," he said through his puckered mouth and cigarette, "So, you can write."

"So then, how's your play?"

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_So __this wasn't going to be any ordinary, 'oh everyone's back so everything's good,' sort of deal. She really didn't want to play her third year (for obvious health reasons) but she kept getting sucked back in. Keep in mind she has to be cautious of how she handles herself when making these choices._

_ANYWAYS,_

_**hirakohs**: I will not deny you Polla-chan in the Nekoma Arc, DON'T WORRY._

_Thank you for all of the reviews, favorite and follow you all have given me! Really, no matter how many times I say it, I feel as though I cannot express it enough, so thank you!_

_**ALSO**: Thank you so much for the (I'm not even going to call it, 'fanart,' because it's so much cooler than that) awesome people who were kind enough to draw Apollonia! I have made a special folder on my Tumblr for all of the gorgeous people who were nice enough to take the time to draw my swanling, so thank you so much! It is an honor!_


	17. Forgettable

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 17: Forgettable_**

* * *

_One Week Before Training Camp_

* * *

_"All I insist on, and nothing else, is that you should show the whole world that you are not afraid. Be silent, if you choose; but when it is necessary, speak—and speak in such a way that people will remember it."  
_

_\- Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart_

* * *

Hinata and Kageyama sat on the steps outside the gymnasium, about two hours before school was intended to start: the setter looking a little more irritated than his bright-eyed counterpart. They had forgone opening the doors themselves, considering Hinata had forgotten where the keys were stowed, and Kageyama felt it a pain to inhabit a vast, echoing gym with only a wide-awake carrot-headed middle blocker to keep him company.

"How come Apple-senpai called us here before school in our uniforms if we don't have morning practice?"

For about six-thirty in the morning, Hinata was exceptionally louder than Kageyama expected—not that he was really surprised in retrospect.

"How should I know," Kageyama murmured, still somewhat groggy from sleep. "Maybe she wanted to hold another meeting."

Hinata hummed quietly, shrugging a small shrug while his feet swung back and forth off the ledge. Kageyama thanked whatever Kami was watching over him that the boy was actually quiet for more than a second.

However, his content was quickly squelched when the middle blocker jumped straight up from his sitting position, nearly knocking him over to the side with his high-pitched squealing.

"UUOOAH! What if she wants to play a game against us?!"

"Shut up, dumbass! You're too loud!"

"But Kageyama, we might get to see, '_Karasuno's Swan,'_ in action today!"

"I know, dumbass! Stop yelling!"

"You're not even a _little_ excited?!"

"I told you, stop yelling!"

"You're both yelling," Tsukishima snipped, walking up with his hands in his jersey pockets, Yamaguchi a step behind him. He wore a slightly weary look—no more awake then the rest, save Hinata—and tapped the screen of his music player, shutting it off.

"I could hear you through my headphones all the way down the street," he grumbled, pulling them down from his ears until they sat against his neck. Yamaguchi next to him seemed too tired to fully respond to Tsukishima and the other first years, yawning loudly into his palm.

"What do you suppose Apollonia-senpai called everyone here for," Yamaguchi asked, wiping away the small droplets at the corner of his eyes.

"Dunno," Kageyama shrugged, "That's what we were trying to figure out."

"You weren't trying to figure out anything," Hinata returned with a sour pout, immediately chastised by Kageyama's hand crushing his skull.

"So, the King can't even keep track of his subjects, then," Tsukishima drawled, stifling a yawn of his own. The grip on Hinata's hair only grew stronger—said victim crying out even louder in protest—as Kageyama made to stand and straight up _throw_ him at the gangly middle blocker.

"You're all here early."

Thankfully, Hinata was saved as the first years turned around to see Apollonia making her way towards the steps, coffee and school bag in hand.

"APPLE-SENPAI," Hinata hollered, breaking free from Kageyama's vice grip in favor of sprinting towards their resident medic, stopping almost instantly right in front of her. Apollonia seemed staggered at first that someone could be so inhumanly active before eight 'o' clock in the morning, though she hid it well by idly sipping on her coffee as she strolled towards the doors. She relieved the key from it's hiding spot, then proceeded to unlock and open up the gymnasium all while Hinata hopped around behind her, asking, '_Are we going to have a morning game? Are you going to play against us? Do we get to be on your team?_'

"We won't be playing," Apollonia stated, halting Kageyama as he walked towards the supply room closet. She ignored Hinata's long-winded, '_Awww, why not_,' and set her things down on the bench, walking back out past the threshold.

"I'll be right back," she said, "I just need to get my medical bags."

"Do you need help," Yamaguchi asked, at once embarrassed that he said anything at all when Tsukishima gave him a sideways glare.

It wasn't anymore comforting that Apollonia looked positively insulted that he would even ask such a question.

"I'll be fine," she said in a way that toed the line of terse and passive. She took long strides out of the gym towards the clubroom, thus allowing Tsukishima to turn fully towards his friend to verbalize his prior, '_Shut up, Yamaguchi_,' that he had withheld. Yamaguchi could only grin shyly at the entire scenario.

Only a few minutes later did Daichi, Sugawara and Asahi enter: Daichi and Asahi yawning into their hands while Sugawara strolled in with his eyes closed and his head tilted back. Daichi was the first to acknowledge them—though he did so rather sluggishly with a small twitch of his fingers.

"You're all here early," he slurred. "What for?"

"We thought Apple-senpai might want to play a morning game with us," Hinata piped up—a little too loud for his own good—and thus suffered a hard shove from Kageyama.

"Only you thought that, stupid!"

"You thought it, too!"

"No I didn't!"

"It's too early to tolerate these two," Tsukishima grumbled, Yamaguchi somewhat dozing off behind him despite Hinata and Kageyama's bickering.

"Both of you stop," Daichi snapped, sitting down on the bench, stretching his legs out in front of him. "She'll tell us when she gets here."

He glanced down at the coffee cup and familiar backpack to his right, furrowing his brows and clearing the fog in his head before blinking once, twice with realization.

"Where is she," he asked, gesturing towards her thermos.

"She said she was getting the medical bags," Kageyama answered, pointing towards the clubroom just beyond the walls. "She said she didn't want any help," he felt necessary to add.

Kageyama frowned indignantly when Daichi made a small clicking noise with tongue while his eyes did a quick roll. '_Of course._' Once she reentered the gym with both bags slung over each shoulder, she was immediately met with pursed, stern lips.

"Oi, why aren't you letting the first years help out? Those bags aren't exactly light. You should be more careful if you intend on practicing with us again."

Apollonia only answered him with a raised brow, as if the idea of asking for help were not only an improbable scenario, but also a downright _impossible_ one.

"You're too proud, Apollonia-chan," Sugawara hummed. "We'd all be willing to pitch in."

"I can carry the bags," Hinata offered brightly, before being tugged back by Kageyama.

"You can't even lift the net poles by yourself," he countered. Hinata tried to keep his face from flushing, but to no avail as Tsukishima snorted behind him.

"Those bags are probably weigh more than you do," he added dryly, earning a quick, '_Nice one, Tsukki,_' from Yamaguchi.

"That is inefficient," Apollonia intoned, breaking the boys of their teasing. "I'm obligated to carry them myself; you all should reserve your energy."

"I don't think we need to worry about Hinata's energy reserves," Daichi chuckled. He picked up the white thermos from the bench, opening the mouth with a small flip of his thumb before glancing inside. "You still drink that weird-smelling coffee right, Apollonia-san?"

Apollonia wore a look that made it _explicitly_ clear that attempting to taunt her at six thirty in the morning with the threat of drinking her prized, light-roast, stomach-sensitive, velvety soft Finnish brand coffee—that she paid up the nose every month from online distributors—was positively the most _dangerous_ game any individual could play.

But as quickly as the scowl inched onto her face, it was wiped away as Nishinoya outright slammed into her back, coiling his arms tightly around her waist while his legs tried to lock around her knees, all while yelling, '_APPLE-SAAAN_,' into her sweatshirt. She bent slightly forwards, keeping a firm hold on the hem of her athletic sweatpants being tugged down by the unintended pull from the libero's legs, and replaced her previously irritated expression to one of exasperation.

"Nishinoya seems lively today," Ennoshita stated somewhat satirically as he, Kinoshita and Narita walked through the threshold. Tanaka was not too far behind, hopping towards Apollonia with his arms pumping in an energized manner.

"Apple-san, are we going to have a morning game," he yelled. "Are we are we?!"

Nishinoya immediately unlatched himself from Apollonia's back—with a little extra tug from Ennoshita per Daichi's command, hollering, '_Yeah, let's go let's go let's go_,' thus only instigating Hinata to join in once again as well.

Despite their effervescence, it only took a single razor-edged look from both Daichi and Apollonia to quiet all three of them down.

"You might not want to yell so loud, these two are cranky in the morning," Sugawara chided, nudging both of their elbows. Daichi stifled an odd noise that vaguely sounded like a snort, while Apollonia angled her head back, letting out a weary exhale. In an instant, she jerked her chin down so that she was looking at Daichi from under her cocked eyebrow, holding out her hand for her thermos.

Daichi, quirked his smirk a little higher before relinquishing her coffee back to her grasp, letting out a humored breath when she transferred it to her other hand noticeably far away from his own cunning fingers.

"Alright," he stretched in between a wide yawn, "Why did you call us here?"

Rather than answering, Apollonia instead motioned them to sit on the floor with a waft of her hand. She opened up one of her medical bags—the smaller of the two, boasting a faded black cover with simple economical stitches and a single zipper—and pulled out a small baton with pronounced grooves along the center, clanking when she set it down on the bench next to her coffee. Not far behind was a small tube donning a rushing tiger on its front, overlaid with a gradient of yellow and burnt orange with a running figure printed alongside it.

She set it aside the roller before stacking her second medical bag—a somewhat higher quality carrier made from thicker and darker water-resistant material—and pulled a small roll of compression tape from its myriad of pockets. She aligned all three objects into a small line on the bench, shuffling around the other side so that she was facing the Karasuno team.

Most of them sat quietly on the floor, some cross-legged, others with their knees tucked into their chest, while the more spirited flock—namely Hinata, Nishinoya and Tanaka—looked ready to burst forth at her display of tools as if they were ancient artifacts.

Sugawara's eyes glossed over one of the tools, "Is that the travel roller that you were talking about last year?"

"Yes," she answered, spinning a few of the grooves with her thumb. "This roller will be available to you any time during the athletic year. It is useful for massaging out any knots, and dispersing the effects of lactic acid build up."

She leaned down and tugged the left leg of sweatpants up over her knee. She pressed the ridges against the side of her calf, cocking her elbows so that she rolled down at an angle over her soleus, pulling up again before repeating the process from the beginning. They watched curiously as she performed a couple more strokes; her hands had paled, a signal of just how much force she was applying to her leg, the muscle of her calf and shin flattening and flushing the more she pressed—almost to the point of leaving bruises.

Her face didn't give any indication of pain or discomfort, despite that once she was done with her demonstration, she had left a few track marks on the side of her calf, red and swollen, probably needing more than a minute to cool and decompress.

"You want to roll out your problem areas at least twenty times to properly stretch out your muscles and allow healthy blood flow," she said, holding up the baton in her right hand while her left tugged down her pant leg. "If you are not sure how to properly roll out a certain part of your body, I will assist you. Areas like the back and shoulders is best rolled out by someone other than yourself, though a small object like a golf ball or your own knuckles would do better to get the tissue deeper down."

While explaining, she held out her hand in a clawed position to better illustrate, crossing her arm over until her fingers settled over her deltoid just under the end of her collar, just above the valley that separated her chest and arm. She pushed her knuckles into the muscle, using her elbow to roll her shoulder deeper against her fist.

"Sport massages, whether self-done or by someone else, will often feel uncomfortable," she said, pulling her arm across her chest so that she could better prod at the muscle of her trapezius with spread fingers, turning for the team to see. "But it is only the lactic acid flowing out of your muscles. Massages will increase blood and lymph circulation, and remove toxins from your body. The neurological response of that inflammation flowing through your body will cause that discomfort."

At first, they seemed to follow her explanation, but after trying to listen to the mechanics of a simple massage, a few of the boys held up a blank face to her, their mouths dumbly slacked.

"It'll hurt worse before it feels better," she concluded simply. "Discomfort during massages is your body's way of making you aware of your personal, 'hotspots,' and a warning that you should better care for those areas and take better responsibility towards warming them up."

Apollonia handed the baton to the Hinata nearest in front of her, who took it with widened eyes, balancing it only on the tips of his fingers before giving a few experimental rakes down his leg. He cringed and bit back a cry when he hit a knot he did not expect to find. He jerked back and quickly handed the roller to Kageyama, holding his calf with his lips sucked back behind his teeth. He puffed up his chest, trying to will back his humorously strained look as he turned back up, seeing Apollonia holding the orange tube in her right hand while she twirled the medical tape with her index and middle finger in her left.

"Oi, Shouyou, do you have to go to the bathroom," Nishinoya whispered none too quietly. Hinata's back went erect in an instant, a bright red crossing his ears.

"Apollonia-san is still talking," Daichi warned, crossing his arms triumphantly seeing the two in front of him flinch.

"Warming up is essential, keeping the blood flowing smoothly through your body is critical to avoid pulling anything or trying to push yourself too hard too soon," Apollonia continued. "That's why you want to utilize stretching and sports massages to keep your body healthy. During the day when you cannot just pull out a roller, you can use things like pain relief patches, or this," she held up the tube, facing the logo towards the team.

"This is pain relief balm, it'll help relieve some of the aches and pains you're likely to feel this year. You can use it before or after practices depending on your preference. However," she raised the compression tape a little higher, "You should not combine these two. It'll only cause skin irritation. If you want better circulation throughout the day—before, during or after practices—wearing a compression bandage for a while will help. You do not want to overuse it, however, or else you are likely to grow a mental attachment to it."

She set the items down on the bench before straightening up, crossing over each seated crow.

"Everyday I will be available an hour before morning practices if you have questions about stretches, or want a pre-practice sport's massage. However, with my limited experience, I am only permitted to do so much, so if you have an issue that is beyond my skill level, you will be redirected to Coach Ukai, and he will decide what measures need to be taken. Understood?"

The team nodded, somewhat in unison—some a little more reluctant than others—and stood up, taking initiative to shake out the dust in their joints from sitting down for so long.

"Good work, doctor," Daichi chirped, lightly slapping Apollonia's elbow, "It was a little messy, of course. You still need to improve your people skills; maybe when you stop being such a hermit, it'll come naturally in no time."

The myriad of things that were wrong with Daichi's statements left Apollonia momentarily silent with only her sour grimace and furrowed brow to humor him. "Please, don't call me, '_doctor_,'" she finally settled for.

"It's good that you explained everything, though," Sugawara assured before turning around to the underclassmen. "Don't you all have something to say," he prompted, waving his hand at his side in gesture for them to bow. The first and second years took hint of the sharp tone in their setter's voice, straightening up before offering her a slight bend at the waist, a uniform, '_Thank you_,' tacked on at the end—though Tsukishima ultimately had to be goaded by Nishinoya and Tanaka to cooperate, the middle blocker offering the bare minimum of respect for her needed to appease his elders.

Apollonia recognized their gratitude with a small tilt of her head, taking back the roller from Kageyama as he held it out to her.

"If you do not have any questions or concerns, you are dismissed," Daichi stated before adding, "And do _not_ be late for class."

The team winced at his dark tone and nodded stiffly, scurrying out of the gym with their bags slung over their shoulders.

Once they were out of sight, Apollonia bent down and began packing up her supplies, a bit bemused to see her classmates patiently waiting for her.

"We'll let you use the club room once we're done so you can get changed," Daichi offered, glancing down at her bag and thermos. A brief smirk tugged at his face before vanishing when she replied with a small hum, what he assumed to be a, '_Thank you_.'

"So is it out of the question to ask that you bring us coffee in the morning?"

Sugawara immediately slapped the arm of the Captain, hissing, '_Daichi_,' under his breath when Apollonia's face once again dropped into an unwitty frown.

"Apple-senpai!"

Her frown paled into a look of shock as she turned to see Hinata, not even realizing that his presence still filled the room. He was sprung up with his hand raised, though after it registered exactly how much of a spectacle he was making of himself, he snapped his arm back to his side.

"Yes, Hinata?"

Hinata seemed almost baffled that she had dropped the suffix—not that he was complaining, he was not a fan of formalities among friends, but in the presence of, '_Karsuno's Swan_,' he felt as though she should have been placed much higher than he, and thus did not expect for her to identify them both as equals. Daichi and Sugawara didn't bother to tell Hinata that it was nothing to fuss over: Apollonia was just terrible with honorifics.

He pressed his hands flat against the side of his legs like a bone-straight column, sucking his lips back as he took in a breath. He wanted to inquire about his leg: why exactly it hurt whenever he pressed the roller down on it and if he needed any immediate attention. He was determined to stay on the court, and did not want minor injuries to keep him from doing so.

However, in Apollonia's authoritative presence, it felt as if he were asking something so pathetically small from someone so prestigiously large.

"Is it your calf," she asked bluntly, causing Hinata to flinch that she was so unearthly aware of his reactions despite appearing so aloof. He nodded furiously, his mouth stretched in an apprehensive line.

"Lay down," she ordered—neither forceful nor gentle, but somewhere in between—Hinata following suit by laying down on his stomach with his chin propped up on the back of his hands.

Without asking where the pain settled, Apollonia applied light pressure along the top of his calf down over the lateral hemisphere then up the medial before tracing back down towards a taut patch in between, digging three of her fingers into the skin. She gained the reaction she was looking for when Hinata tried to stifle a pained yelp, knocking her in the jaw with the back of his leg as it whipped up out from under him. He immediately apologized, then again ten times over before curling back down against the bench, too mortified to do anything else but hide his face in his hands and bite his fingers if such an impulse threatened his body again.

Daichi and Sugawara only made matters worse as they tried to console both Hinata and Apollonia separately, despite their lack of composure, and the nervous edge that was audible in their voices.

Hinata could only shove his blushing face further into his arms until everything around him was black and furiously hot.

He could feel her hand hovering over him—assuming the cold whisper of air over his calf was her hand—and braced himself, squinting his eyes shut.

But to his surprise, he felt a small tap on his elbow instead. He opened his eyes to see her broad, white hand in front of him, slightly limp, but cupped as if she were holding a pebble or shell out to him. He turned over his shoulder to look at her, seeing her impassively staring back at him, the bottom part of her face still red from where he kicked her.

He nearly breathed a sigh of relief to see that she was not angry, though at the same time, he was unnerved that he really couldn't see anything at all in her expression. She was an unreadable individual just looking at her straight on, probably even more complex than his English Homework. But, as he looked back at her hand out in front of him, the message was somehow clear.

Hinata reluctantly took a light hold on the ends of her fingers, his face a shade of red a little darker than he intended once he realized that he was holding her hand like a small child. Though, once he felt the jolt in his leg from her thumb gnawing circles into the medial head of his calf, he clutched her hand hard enough to probably halt her circulation.

But she didn't flinch or make a noise of protest. She just continued to iron out the knot in his leg: plucking at certain nerves with the sharp edge of her thumb, smoothing his skin with the heel of her palm, contracting and expanding the blood vessels with skillful pinches and presses using all five of her digits.

It _was_ uncomfortable as she had said—borderline excruciating in fact—but the longer she concentrated on the knot in his calf, the lighter it was starting to feel, as if she had decompressed a patch of air stuck in the tangled fibers of his leg. After about five or seven minutes of enduring her ministrations, she let her left hand fall in her lap, lightly tapping on Hinata's hand with her thumb to inform him that she was finished.

He lifted his head up, slinging his legs over the side of the bench to arch and flex his shin and calf.

"Uuuoah," he chirped, straightening his leg out in front of him, "It feels better than it did before. I didn't even know it could do that!"

Apollonia seemed slightly amused by his exclamation, if not at first confused. Her mouth twitched down in order to hold back a small grin when Hinata leapt up and bowed to her before running out of the gym with his bag in hand. She too rose to her feet, a little more creaky than the spry and nimble first year, turning to see Daichi and Sugawara looking up at her with stupidly wide grins and crossed arms. She arched one brow at them, somewhat inquisitive, though considering conversations with the Karasuno team often led to nonsensical gibberish, she did not actually take the measures to indulge in her curiosity. She didn't need to when Daichi stepped up beside her, shaking her shoulder in almost a paternal fashion.

"I think our medic is going to do just fine," he boasted heartily, despite the only other person present being Sugawara.

"I agree," Sugawara added, chuckling along with Daichi when the only reaction they received was Apollonia's furrowed brow. "You've been working hard."

"Muscle anatomy is not difficult," she returned, "I just knew how to handle a knot in his calf. It's a simple procedure."

"Not just that," Daichi intoned, "You made him feel comfortable."

Apollonia quirked her eyebrow back up, finding the fact that Daichi was describing Hinata as being, '_comfortable_,' with her completely asinine when he nearly knocked her out with his leg the moment she touched him, paired with the fact that he looked like he'd either suffer a heart attack or spontaneous urination when she would just _speak_ in his direction.

Daichi mirrored her expression, though a little more tauntingly. "You did. You went out of your way to take the time and make sure he felt safe with you. There's a sense of trust that comes from how you handled the situation."

"That is the requirement of a trainer," she deadpanned.

Sugawara and Daichi both exhaled before giving her with a soft chop against her forehead.

* * *

_Lunch_

* * *

They were somewhat surprised to see Hinata standing at their classroom door in the middle of the lunch period, though at the same time, they couldn't help but feel as though it was inevitable. They didn't even need to hear him say the words as his eyes darted around them.

"Is Apple-senpai here?"

They both shook their heads.

Hinata need not ask where she was likely to be, Sugawara already taking the lead to answer him.

"She excused herself a little while ago," he said between mouthfuls of tofu. "Knowing her, she's probably in the library."

Hinata seemed astonished that someone would subject themselves to reading in the _library_ of all places. "Really," he asked, feeling a little ill at the thought of going into such a dungeon just to find the Finn.

"Yeah, she spends a lot of time there. She's very studious," he stated, chuckling at Hinata's queasy frown.

"She has to be to maintain the grades to be in a college preparatory class," Daichi intoned, "Japanese, after all, is not her first language."

Somehow, even with her differentiating features and obvious ineptitude towards their culture, the fact that Apollonia was in fact _not_ Japanese, and thus was likely not entirely familiar with things Japanese-related: their language, customs, educational system, etc had failed to register with him.

"She's probably holed up studying vocabulary or grammar again," Sugawara shrugged, shoving a bit of his lunch to the side so he could speak a little more clearly to Hinata.

"I wouldn't bother her if I were you. Trying to get her attention while she's studying in the library is about as easy as trying to take a test without a pencil."

Hinata leaned back, letting his chest fill with an exaggerated amount of air. "Uooah, you know Apple-senpai so well, Sugawara-san!"

Sugawara only twitched his mouth into a strained smile, shaking one hand lightly while the other rubbed the back of his neck. "No, no, I wouldn't say that," he rebuked, "That's just what she did last year. I honestly don't know much about her at all."

"But, he's read enough travel dictionaries about Finland, that's for sure," Daichi interjected, earning a terse, humorless grin from the setter, along with a quick kick to the shin under the table.

Hinata wasn't shy at showing his shock. Sugawara and Daichi always came off as the two who knew her most, as if she had been their friend since middle school, Sugawara especially. But, just as her foreign heritage, the fact that she had only lived in Japan but _one year_ seemed to slip once again from his understanding of the Finn.

"Yeah," Sugawara began, somewhat fatigued, "She's not exactly social. I actually think you first years have made more progress with her in these few months than any of us had since last year, honestly."

Hinata seemed to perk up at that. "Really?!"

"That's right," Daichi mused, a little less enthusiastically, "I have a feeling that she likes you all better than she does us."

Hinata nearly gasped in response, unaware of the amused smiles Sugawara and Daichi fought not to show.

"You should ask Apollonia-chan questions about herself. Ennoshita and the other second years did that once, and they learned quite a bit," Sugawara offered. "I feel sort of bad that we didn't make more of an effort last year."

Daichi leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'll be surprised to hear this, but she actually becomes sort of forgettable when she's on the court."

It took what miniscule composure the middle blocker had not to let his jaw drop to the floor.

The moment they took her jersey out of the box, it had been drilled into him that she was placed upon a pedestal, bearing a name just as prominent as, '_Guardian Deity_,' and, '_King of the Upper Court_,' even, '_Ace_,' if he was willing to make such a speculation.

They had never even mentioned that she played volleyball. They just automatically assumed that even though she was their trial Athletic Trainer, that she was an athlete like them; considering that she was unfathomably tall and had asked for a _player's_ jacket. He assumed by Tanaka's immediate reverence of her, that she could be classified as someone who bore skills as prominent as Asahi's, as the Little Giant's.

And now, they were calling her, '_forgettable_?'

Daichi and Sugawara seemed to realize their error, both raising their hands before Hinata unraveled trying to figure out which explanation was supposed to believe. "Don't get us wrong, she's very good at volleyball, but it just… translates differently on the court," Sugawara tried to explain, only earning a pursed frown from Hinata. Daichi proved no better with clarifying.

"Apollonia is Apollonia," he concluded with a shrug.

Hinata nodded slowly, his mouth in an, '_O_,' shape as he tried to portray his understanding as much as he could—even though he still could not fully comprehend that someone who he had instantly exalted above them all was suddenly being written off as unremarkable.

After politely excusing himself, the illness that had soured Hinata's stomach had faded, and with a small breath, he set off towards the library.

* * *

"Uh… No sorry, I haven't seen any tall, white-haired third years here."

But to his surprise, she was not in the library, even after checking the darkest corners and asking the student tasked with checking out books near the entrance.

Apparently, she had never even set foot inside.

What little brainpower Hinata was willing to use during his one off period, he gauged that if she were not in her homeroom, in the library—and God knows he was _not_ going to check the girl's bathroom—then surely there was only logical place to be.

Well, logical for him, at least.

He quickly shuffled up towards the gymnasium, slipping off his school shoes as he hopped up the steps, his athletic sneakers in hand if his assumption proved true.

He was not shy to admit that his heart jumped when he saw that the door was already open, with the sound of a ball periodically hitting the court floor—the telltale melody of dribbling before a serve with a whip-like wrist, that little, '_thump_,' from initial contact that was echoed tenfold as it met the ground.

He tried to will the stupidly large grin that had lifted the ends of his mouth almost up to his ears back down, just in case it was Kageyama or Asahi making the clamor. Quietly, he snuck up to the gap in the door, poking just his left eye through, resting his nose on the flat of the metal, his hands ready to thrust open the door if it was in fact the Finn.

The glimpse of pale, alabaster hair was hint enough, though the sight before him had left him paralyzed, unable to just callously slam the door open and leap on through. Perhaps a genius like Kageyama or Nishinoya would have called her actions merely a, '_simple jump serve_.'

But how could something so simple be so compelling, and leave him absolutely speechless?

Each step was executed so cleanly—so knowingly—as it were meant to be played, rewound and paused, then shown in slow motion, as if she could go any slower than she already had. Her approach was very thorough, and easy to follow.

She approached her three step take off as if she had a tape measure under her feet: her left foot pushing just enough to get her moving forwards, her right out next, planting firmly as she slung her arms back, her left clenching as she pushed back at the upward force of the floor, her arms leading her right leg back as she pushed her large, athletic frame against the gravity that had once kept her grounded. In the air, she seemed to linger just a little big longer, as if by some miracle she would float just a little bit higher.

Her left arm limply pointed towards the horizon, her chest swiveled away and backward to bring her arm behind her at her desired angle, her pelvis tilted so that her legs could tuck comfortably under her before they whipped back out to halt her forward momentum.

Everything about her just looked so powerful: she had shed her skirt for the spandex shorts she apparently had on underneath, revealing her straight, toned hips. Her socks were gone and neatly folded over her school shoes, allowing the light of day to touch each and every individual swatch of muscle lining her quadriceps, her hamstrings right down to her calves and all of the patches in between. Her white button up was pulled taut along her front, fluttering carelessly behind her as she rose. Her sleeves were rolled up, her cocked arm displaying a long, clenched forearm pulsing power and control into her wrist and hand as it snapped down for a topspin serve.

Even though it lasted merely seconds, it felt as though it lasted hours, though Hinata wished that it had lasted _days_.

He wasn't even sure if he had properly heard the sound of the ball reach the ground, but he sure felt the pounding pressure in his ears deafening him—like standing next to a fired cannon. He felt his body wince assuming that it was the effect of the sound waves splitting and rippling, eventually hitting him in a flurry of directions.

Lost of the ability to do anything else, he stood there. He just stood there watching through the crack in the door, the soft footsteps of Kageyama behind him not even registering, not even when he nudged his shoulder. He couldn't hear any of the angry barks of, '_Hey_,' and, '_What the Hell is wrong with you_,' among the many utterances of, '_Dumbass_,' thrown at him. His knees almost gave way underneath him, his chest had shut, locked and vaulted his breath at the bottom of his throat, preventing it from leaving his lips.

"Hey, answer me," Kageyama repeated, "What's with you?"

But Hinata didn't move. In that moment in time, it seemed as if his shoulders had shrunk, as if the legs he thought he built by running were nothing but toothpicks, as if the arms he thought were finally strong enough to handle the physicality of volleyball were nothing but frayed strings. He felt so small, so easily crushed in comparison with her. She was so tall, but so strong as well, that the sound of her hits colliding with the court echoed and resonated in his ears. In his _entire body_.

He'd seen it before: that sort of power that was earth-shattering, bone shattering, everything that was terrifying and everything that was awe-inspiring.

And now it was as if the indomitable mountain he had wished to climb had manifest just beyond the wall that separated them.

"Lunch is almost over, we need to get back to class," Kageyama barked, a little less harshly once he realized just how pale Hinata's face was.

He finally stood stably, the shaking in his legs transferred to his sweaty palms, and looked around at the setter. Kageyama waited behind him with his accustomed look of furrowed brows and pursed, irritated lips, and for a second, Hinata was grateful for the change of view.

But the sight that he witnessed within the walls of the gymnasium still lingered in the black behind his eyes, like breathy fingers of smoke even after a fire has been subdued.

And, he doubted that he'd ever forget it.

* * *

_One Year Before the Storyline_

_"Composure."_

* * *

_"There are no facts, only interpretations."_

_― Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

There was a great difference in the way Apollonia viewed herself versus how others saw her.

It wasn't as if either party was right or wrong, it was just the matter of relativity.

If one of the Karasuno members were asked to describe her playing manner—or just about any onlooker for that matter—had they the eloquence to describe, they would have painted an elaborate picture of something absolutely terrifying. It would have been a mile high mural of a broad back bearing strong, heavy wings, the remiges sharply rounded, flexed and alert.

'_This is my land_,' her arms seemed to say as they thrust high over her head, curving over the net while her hands blossomed open for protest. '_And you will not cross it_.'

Her blocking was solid, and trustworthy. Her arms were long—albeit sinewy even with all of the strength training—but they knew the proper timing, they knew the angle they had to bend, how much weight they had to carry and not break.

Apollonia was not a visibly expressive person, she did not use her facial muscles in a reckless fashion; instead, it was her presence that spoke volumes for her.

Had she the ability to bend weather at her will, she would have dropped the temperature of the court by a degree or two, solely with the blink of her eye. It was literal cold calculation, borderline manipulation that she wore. Observations, figures and theories were running through her mind as she grazed player over player, her thoughts interlocking and solidifying once her knees bent for an anticipated kill. Her silence compelled them, and her ability to push back even the strongest spikes, and return them just as forcefully left them staggered.

But Apollonia wrote herself off as a realist: a logical, methodical player who valued efficiency and form over careless play. The elder Ukai often reprimanded her for her lack of ambition—what he often identified as, '_hesitance'_—when she refused to dive for a ball she knew she could not reach.

To her, it was a waste of energy to try and claw for shots that were physically impossible to reach. She knew exactly how long her limbs were—right down to the last millimeter—and would not dive for a ball that was beyond her legs' thrust or her arm's length. Others might have called her mentality lazy or arrogant, while she preferred to think of her actions as competent.

She was aware of her intelligence, and her ability to conserve her energy and analyze the movements of her opponents, reading through their tricks and dishonesty.

Setters may glance where they like, but the placement of their feet, and the angle of their wrist never failed to expose their true intentions, just the erratic movements of spikers could easily be interpreted by a single twitch of their quadriceps, a brief locking of their shoulders revealing if they intended to change their straight to a feint. When at her best, her margin of error was small, allowing her the room to step a pace or two ahead of them, despite her underdeveloped speed and stamina.

In the eyes of others, she was a gale force midnight wind: cold as winter and as strong as tangled roots penetrating the Earth. Through her own eyes, she was simply a thoughtful analyst with an adequate build for athletics.

Both, in their own way were correct, despite the great bridge that separated them. Apollonia scolded the likes of the underclassmen for their reverence of her when she was simply an efficient player. Her teammates, however, were just as quick to scold her for not wearing her skill proudly on her back. They stood mirrored to one another: Apollonia overly pragmatic and honest to an almost brutal level, the Karsuno team somewhat romanticizing the way that she played. Both were just as right as they were wrong, but there was a glitch in her play that was ultimately acknowledged, but seldom spoken of.

Apollonia was indeed a textbook player, and knew the mechanics of volleyball inside and out, but she was quiet.

Her silence—though astounding, considering that an eyesore like her should not be able to slink around so stealthily—was just as much of a weapon as it was a hindrance to her play.

The most important factor in volleyball was arguably, communication—and their, '_mental link_,' with her only stretched so far. There was a point where her thoughts stopped being immediately clear, instead slowly becoming fragmented like a chain link fence before it was completely replaced with a broad and empty wall: impenetrable and unreadable even to those who knew her best. The team acknowledged her as a pensive individual—but her theories did no good if they were locked and vaulted inside of her—her intentions could only be read to a certain point before they were just movements, and nothing more.

She was undeniably composed, but the fact that she was _so_ in control of her reactions posed a problem for herself and the team. There were instances where they would look over to her and see her almost in a trance—contemplative and collected—and at first, they had simply felt disconnected from her, only for a moment. For just a split second. She was a very poised individual who could hold her head high even when her arms were swollen and red, and hid her injuries well, even as they lay plainly on her skin, covered or uncovered, external or internal.

But, it wasn't long before the gap between them grew: her mind turning and tumbling over itself as she observed her opponents and hid all of her aches and pains within herself, the people beside her fading to feathered shadows without their own throats to speak. They felt as though she had slipped out of their grasp completely, lost in a flurry, too far beyond their frozen fingers could grasp. But it did not feel as though she had risen above them.

Instead, it felt as if she had vanished from their land, that she had uprooted herself and left, and nothing they said could bring her back.

A swan's song was said to be almost foreboding when heard.

But for such a prominent bird to utter not even a melodious fluttered wing.

Now, that was foreboding.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Thank you all for reading, and for all the newcomers who have messaged me, reviewed, favorited, and followed!_

_**ChigUnnie:** Oh my God, you precious child. In regards to her notes: they are formed over time; she usually keeps one large notebook to jot everything down, and then fleshes everything out for the University to analyze. She relies heavily on online translators/ books however considering the language barrier, which is not always reliable, which is what Ukai had noticed as he read them._

_**Shadow-Binder:** Thank you! (And I like the name you gave her, Apollonia definitely appreciates more than being called a bird.)_

_**cookie2718:** Hello there! Everyone, follow this girl's tumblr! She is fantastic! And thank you thank you thank you! I'm glad that you like the story and my little pictures!_

_**tartanarmygirl:** Sorry there, dear child! I only really gave a little peek at Hinata's reaction, but the rest is sure to come. Soon..._


	18. Apotheosis

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 18: Apotheosis_**

* * *

_After Lunch_

* * *

_"My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery - always buzzing, humming, soaring, roaring, diving, and then buried in mud."_

_― Virginia Woolf_

* * *

Stomping out the dust in her left foot, she picked up another ball from the bin and wiped a bit of scuff from the surface with the end of her shirt. However, much to Apollonia's displeasure, the scuff did not fade, even with a little added elbow grease. Unsatisfied that she could not entirely clean away the stain, she set the ball at her feet and tugged down her nylon sleeve, seeing as it had shifted during her practice. She made to reach for another ball until the gym was filled with short, rapid-paced chirps—her phone's telltale sign of alarm.

She made her way leisurely over towards her discarded uniform—tidily folded and organized on the bench—and swiped the screen to silent. She glanced down at the time displayed to confirm that the lunch period was in fact soon to be over, before she tapped the center button to return to the home screen.

Though she did not work up a sweat, Apollonia dug out of her bag a package of no-rinse bath wipes, rubbing them generously over her chest, underarms, hands and feet until she felt what little perspiration she did emit washed away. She threw the towels in the trash, swiping a bit of deodorant under arms, then along her inner thighs to keep them from chafing while she tugged her socks and skirt back on.

She retrieved the volleyball supplies that had been cast across the court, setting them all neatly in the bin before stowing them away in the gymnasium closet.

Pedaling back to her bag, she quickly slipped her athletic shoes off and shifted her backpack across her shoulder, already in commute towards the door. Once outside she took her school shoes and squeezed her feet in, stretching her wide toe box to a satisfactory fit.

When she reached out to close the door, she paused as her fingers met the metal. Both skin and surface cooled under the shadows despite the humid day.

She had removed her bandages, wearing instead only her compression sleeve; and despite practicing nearly half an hour on her serves wearing it, she suddenly seemed so taken by the change.

'_They were too restrictive_,' was the first thought she had mused at the beginning of the lunch period, walking out of the main building to their volleyball practice space.

She questioned whether or not her use of tense was proper, despite the fact that the comment was entirely in her head, and had not even been spoken. She had looked around seeing the interior of the gym in its entirety, oddly feeling lost—as if she hadn't intended to be standing there in the first place. She looked down to see that her hand was already resting over her wrist, tugging against the dressings wrapped around her knuckles.

It was only a thin layer of cloth. But still, she was inseparable from it.

And yet, at that moment, she was able to persuade her inner self into believing that it was a lead weight. Subconsciously, it was now a shackle. It was too tight, poorly wrapped, uncomfortable and inconvenient in everyway. Within the confines of that convoluted mind of hers, she was able to come up with almost any excuse to fiddle and yank at the bandages, and relieve her arm from the pressure. She wanted to shed them like a second skin and sever the mental dependency she had for them.

So, without a second thought she undid the knot that bound the cloth around her, and let it slightly unravel as it spiraled down, draping over her shoes and the floor beneath her.

She replaced it with her sleeve—plain, black, nothing rather eye-catching—and took her place on the baseline.

Now that her private practice was over and the volleyball equipment had been stowed away, she was reluctant to rewrap her arm. It was quite a lengthy, troublesome routine, and surely she would not need it, as long as she maintained her health and was conscious of her movements.

So she kept the sleeve, and she looked down on it again, and at her hand ready to close the door. Her fingers were curled, and wore a faint red on the underside.

Oddly, that pleased her more than she thought it would.

She slid the door close, her arm dropping to her side, covered yet somehow bare.

* * *

_Afternoon Practice_

* * *

Hinata looked up at her from his feet with eyes just a shade warmer than the comical mop atop his head. She, however, did not see his studious gaze linger on her when she pressed her palms against her knees to stand; it was only when she swiveled from side-to-side to stretch her back did she wake him from his watch.

At once, his pupils sharpened, orange eyelashes blinking rapidly in response to her hard, unyielding stare. He had taken Sugawara and Daichi's proposition to heart—and after shamelessly spying on her from the gymnasium doors, he had seized the opportunity to act on his curiosity—though Hinata being Hinata, lacked a filter, and bluntly piped up mid-lunge.

"Apple-senpai!"

Apollonia regarded him with a calm blink, twitching her brow as a sign to continue. Hinata responded as Sugawara nudged his arm, breaking him back to reality.

"W-why are you known as, '_Karasuno's Swan_?'"

Instantly, she flinched.

The question came like a rush of cold air through her—like lifting a heavy windowpane in the midst of a howling winter—the pitch of his voice high and blinding as it ripped through the trunk of her torso. It startled her, and momentarily immobilized her; but as quickly as her eyebrows rose upon her forehead, she slammed them down, along with the blunt, off-white pane still clutched in her hands.

They had just finished their warm up routine of light jogging and dynamic stretching and were just finishing the last of their lunges when Hinata had sprung the question on her. His words were as bouncy as his stretching form; and thus, Apollonia immediately scolded both with a single exhaled breath and an upturned tilt of her chin.

Somewhat dense, Hinata was at least sensible enough to realize that somewhere down the proverbial road, he had tripped and ruffled a bit of foliage that should not have been disturbed.

He wasn't exactly sure _why_ she looked so offended, even if it was for a split-second. She received nearly nothing but praise, whether in her presence or behind her back.

After all, Sugawara seemed to know the most about her, and outrightly doted on her. Daichi, being the dutiful Captain that he was, treated her with respect as if she were his second or third in command, though still left room for playful—one-sided—banter. The rest of the upperclassmen, even Asahi, had trouble looking her in the eye, while Tanaka and Nishinoya unabashedly set her on the highest pedestal they could build, and clutched onto her like children hanging off a bronze statue.

But when he had uttered her heralded name—she had almost _grimaced_ at him—and within seconds had completely rejected all of the admiration she had received from her classmates and kouhai.

Apollonia chewed back a bit of her lip as she looked—_loomed_—over Hinata. The question was vaguely similar to the one imparted by Ennoshita and the other returning second years a couple weeks into her first term with the team, yet she felt as though Hinata's inquiry was a little more difficult to answer. The name itself was rather convoluted: for the swan itself wore a heavy coat, especially in Western culture.

It illustrated the inner, '_beauty_,' that was supposed to empower those who bore its totem, drinking in strength and magnificence like honeyed water.

It represented the spirits of dead poets and musicians whose voices and musings had been reborn in the wings and throat of a plump, ivory waterfowl.

Swans as well were thought to be the most balanced of all birds—being able to walk stably over the earth, wade peacefully through the water, and fly gloriously in the sky—and thus theoretically held supremacy. They saw all, therefore knew all, and made up for their lack of land speed, pointed beaks and talons with controlled aggression and steady tenacity.

But she—at the very most—was just the superficial dilution of those qualities. She was tall, and therefore had a clear view of the court. She was intelligent, thus was able to guestimate the movements of her opponents—to an extent. She was not swift, nor did she have stamina, but she did have composure and discipline. In theory, she could in a sense be compared with the scientific and anatomical characteristics of a Cygnus.

But at the same time, such a thought was absolutely ridiculous.

_Asinine_, in fact.

She assumed that Ennoshita and the others were just making light of the situation, and never did she intend for the name to actually stick. She had perceived their actions as a coping tactic: a way for them to connect with her without having to ask questions they felt uneasy about being answered. It was a mechanism that was intended to induct her into their flock by commenting on her appearance and grace, without dissecting her personality for what it truly was.

Poise, composure, the ability to portray effortlessness in times of hardships—it was not a façade per se, but they were not exactly the colors she desired to show when backed up against a wall of thorns with a pit of pikes underneath her. She too wanted to be an honest person, and bare her fears and weaknesses, and not have to bite her lips off just to keep from showing anything more than indifference.

But, she was obliged to be unexpressive, and to stand above the rest—one, because she was unseemly tall—and two, because in her position, she should be less than a hero, but more than a bystander. As a sport's medicine doctor, as a training partner, and as a friend, she was obliged to play a key supporting role in the architectural integrity that made up the team, even though she seldom set foot on the court itself.

Therefor, even in the roughest of storms, she was to keep her face leveled, and never show anything more than strict and rigid self-control. After all, it was _her_ hands that would touch their bodies, and search for their pain, and strive to numb it if it could not be eradicated; that in itself was a heavy burden on both her and the people who were supposed to place their complete trust in her. If her mouth was to ever twitch with self-doubt or trepidation—her ineptitude would surely cause her patients to retreat from her, like a wounded animal running away from a shaking hand that so desperately wanted to heal them.

She consciously clad herself in white, bleached, sanitized and as bright as hospital walls in order to project an image of hygienic awareness as well as pure intentions. But as she draped the Karasuno jersey over her shoulders, her plumage that she spent so many hours preening, had been painted black.

All of the poetic imagery that they had given her had grayed like the shadows on her clothes. Her steps were slow, not elegant. Her body was fit, but not indestructible. She was intelligent, but she was not inherently clever like the ebony-clad murder that had accepted her. Her broad, heavy wings were at best, papier-mâché_._

In short, she was _not_ a swan, and did not find amusement in equating her to one, in _believing_ that she was even remotely comparable to one.

As quickly as her face had brightened from hearing, '_Swan_,' leave Ennoshita's mouth her second year, it soon darkened at the realization of what he was implying of her. All of their praises and expectations had piled onto her back the more they uttered that name, that wretched name, and regrettably, she had let her face contort to a visibly disapproving mask; thus making it more than clear that she did not appreciate her new moniker.

Why had they even thought to give her such a gilded crown in the first place, when she was less than deserving? What made matters worse was that her own self-consciousness had come off as—unsurprisingly—arrogance, as if she were disgusted in the people who spoke her name, not the name itself. Her own self-loathing and unworthy pride was bruised, but her cold, unflinching face read entirely different to those who dare take a second look.

Hinata, blissfully unaware, only stared up at her with an innocent mouth, awaiting a response.

Not quite the actress, Apollonia took it upon herself to shrug indifferently, allowing her monotone voice to peak towards the end of her sentence, deceptively ignorant. Apollonia's lies could easily be picked apart from her usual candor: her tone never quite had the same flatline as when she was being dishonest. It was as if she had to coerce herself to actually say something she didn't mean _while_ she actually said it.

Apollonia turned and strode towards the bench to shed the jacket that bore her given title, and as always, her response was pallid, her words bone straight.

"I don't really understand, but I assume that it is Japanese humor?"

* * *

_Apollonia, Ukai_

* * *

She began by removing her jacket, tucking it methodically over itself before setting it atop the bench. It was only one, simple article of clothing, but when it no longer sat on her—awkwardly fitted in the shoulders, loose and hanging at the waist and hips, sleeves not fully reaching her wrists—it made all the difference.

Her school athletic shirt was a plain white, but she seemed to take extra pride in keeping it as pristine as it was—there was not even a speck of ground in dirt or sweat stains anywhere on the fabric—the same for her white, nondescript athletic shoes. _Surely_ she had actually exercised in both, hadn't she? Nonetheless, the white, short sleeve was a size larger than it probably should have been in order to accommodate her shoulders and her height, with a portion of the hem tucked in to her sweats so that she did not appear to be walking around sans pants. She looked like any other athlete ready for practice.

Though that in itself had captured Ukai's attention when she had approached the bench.

She would no longer act primarily as a bystander in their practices. After inwardly battling himself on whether or not he really wanted to include a woman—no matter how intelligent or competent of the game she had shown to be—he ultimately bit the bullet and shoved her out on the court when the boys ran off for their warm up laps.

She had glanced back at Ukai with a confused—if he could even call it that—expression, while he just stuck his finger out towards the boys and wordlessly signaled her to follow them. Kiyoko had just watched amusedly from his side as Apollonia began pedaling off like a wary deer before she actually ran after the group.

With her standing again before him, hooking her thumbs into her waistband to tug her sweatpants over her shoes, she didn't look like a newly inducted training partner: excited, nervous, or even aware that she would be contributing to their practice. She came off as resigned; as if she had either performed this one-trick circus act a thousand times, or was expecting not really to participate at all.

Even though many volleyball players—both men _and_ women—easily had Apollonia beat in height, weight and assuredly athleticism, it still took him a moment to actually grasp how physically superior she was. But even with a frame that was built and not just born, it still had faults in its structuring.

On her arm were not the cloth bandages that she had shown the day prior; instead, it was replaced with a compression sleeve, the type that was supposed to cover her from bicep to wrist. However, considering Apollonia's arm length, it had been yanked down and sat closer to her elbow. Either way—sleeves were ordinarily worn for better blood flow and protection against hard hits or friction from the court floor. But, she only wore one. Perhaps, because she was dominant on her right side, or perhaps because she had a lasting injury in her arm that required constant attention. Ukai shrugged it off, gauging that in all due time, he'd get his answer if she didn't tell him first.

Apollonia had already tugged her compression socks on before she entered practice, but on top of her socks—though hidden under her sweats—was a small band under her left knee putting pressure on her patellar tendon. It was a common Velcro strap used by runners and jumpers alike, but just the fact that she was wearing one—and to his knowledge, had not yet begun to take part in their training—that in itself was a red flag that clearly stated, '_prone to injury: you have been warned_.'

It could just be a lingering pain from the season before, or maybe she pulled something exercising on her own time; Apollonia didn't act like the senseless type after all, so there was little chance that she would just dive into physical activity without a little conditioning under her belt. She assumedly wasn't careless, though at the same time, she was—or at least, she could be interpreted as such.

Logically, if it were whittled down to its barest bones, injury could generally be stemmed from the athlete's own recklessness: they extended too far, pushed themselves too hard, and did not take care to stay within their limit of health. As an _athlete_, such deductions were ludicrous to Ukai, downright stupid in fact, because most athletes would rather suffer and perish severe consequences before they allowed themselves to be benched. It was survival of the fittest, and that, '_recklessness_,' was hard work, grit, the desire to strive for greatness and rise higher than any barrier in their path so they could one day take their place at the top of the horizon, above all else.

Though as an _adult—_just the word made Ukai's stomach lurch—he bitterly rolled his eyes and nodded his head that just _maybe_ there was a possibility that if he hadn't been so consumed in the game and his desire to do better, and hadn't pushed himself during so many practices, and hadn't skipped all of the icings and stretches he was obliged to do, _maybe_ he wouldn't have sat on the sidelines with his knee twitching from an overextended muscle or his elbow from tendonitis. Players suffering from injury might have been able to play if they had taken better control over their body and environment.

Therefore, the curious sleeve on her arm, the perpetual tightness in her shoulders, and the patella strap all combined to raise the question of her health. Was she currently injured, or was she prone to being injured? And with that, was she too consumed by the performances of others that she overlooked her own wellbeing?

Because, surely, _surely_ she was not careless—she folded her jersey like a department store display for God's sake and set it down in the most meticulous way possible, her shoes and shirt were probably bleached daily after each and every wear, and just her _notes_—

"Ukai-san?"

Her voice held just enough pitch to render his name as a question, snapping him from his brooding stare. He had not realized that his arms were crossed so tightly, or that his brow was angled so sharply at her.

She had finished the warm up routine with the boys and suddenly seemed at a loss of what to do. Ordinarily, she'd just sit back down and scribble it that enigma of a journal, but with Ukai intending her to participate in some manner or another, she felt obligated to stay standing.

Ukai glanced briefly at her left knee—seeing that she had removed the band in order to put on her kneepads, and even set _that_ stupid thing so neatly on her jersey—and then proceeded to lift his head at a more dignified level. Apollonia didn't look easily riled, so maybe his question wouldn't affect her—though he still kept his guard up less he strike a nerve.

"I'm not going to force you to tell me anything. But if I'm going to be your temporary Coach, then I need to know now if you have any issues with practicing."

Takeda beside him seemed to ruffle, fixing his glasses with a fumbling hand.

"That was very professional of you, Ukai-kun," he chirped, gaining an oddly chastised reaction from the shopkeeper—who was only able to muster a small, '_Shut it_,' in return.

"When I was younger, I was told that I am predisposed to a long list of health issues due to my bloodline," Apollonia said, neither black nor white, but greyly.

Ukai maintained a detached expression in order to put on his best, '_Coach,'_ tracksuit and exude an air of professionalism—not that he wasn't fit to be a coach, but he was not the most refined of people when it came to interacting with others.

Still, the way she had worded her explanation struck odd to him. It could have just been from her stinted knowledge of their language, however, her choice of diction seemed deliberate, even in the tone of her voice. She had professed that she was supposedly diagnosed with—or at least susceptible to—health problems, yet the manner in which she spoke seemed to implicate that she had reason to believe otherwise.

In a dark sort of way, he was amused that she would say such a thing. It was a little arrogant of her—or courageous would probably be a less offensive term to use—that there was a possibility that she'd actually turn her nose up at a certified doctor's opinion.

It was even more humorous that she was, in essence, one herself—even though her position was specifically a sport's medicine doctor—and she was barely a _trainee_ at that.

For someone who seemed so quiet, she was rather ballsy, Ukai had to admit.

Realizing that he had not dignified her with an answer, he quickly blurted whatever words came to mind.

"What are you saying?"

Apollonia—much to Ukai's disbelief—didn't even blink. She heard him, that was for certain; her ears perked, implying the she had a physical reaction to his words, despite the blank look that she had given him. He was unsure that she had actually understood him—possibly getting lost in translation—until she opened her mouth to speak.

"Children are very impressionable. They ordinarily believe what is told of them and accept it as fact, because there is no one to refute," she responded, like a professor addressing her class. With each word that left her mouth, her face didn't seem to change at all. Not even a twitch or quiver of palpable emotion. It was as if she were reciting a script; her words were beyond her years, yet somehow, she fully understood them.

"I am still young," she started. "Perhaps with whatever youth I have left I can change that."

Surpsingly, Ukai found himself speechless. For only a moment. Whatever superficial straight-faced professionalism he had taped together within the last three minutes had completely dropped from his face, and was quickly replaced with knitted, humorless brows. Considering that he couldn't exactly treat her as brashly as he would have done with his own teammates or his now, '_students_,' he did the only thing his semi-stapled composure would allow him to do.

_FWUMP_.

He outright scoffed and lightly whacked her upside the head with the nearest object he could find—a rolled up towel that Kiyoko had just recently brought in.

Apollonia—thankfully—did not look offended, but _was_ aptly shocked to have been scolded in such a bold, physical manner.

Ukai, on the other hand, didn't even flinch as he aggressively shook the towel at her—as if he were warning her that he wouldn't hesitate to do it again. Though, the towel was slightly disheveled after the manhandling it had received, and looked more comical than threatening.

"You're still just a kid. Stop talking like you're an old man," he grunted, as if he had a cigarette between his teeth.

Apollonia found no prompt to move, and just stood: tall, frozen and utterly speechless at the tongue and towel lashing she had received—and she still didn't even know _why_ she had been punished.

Ukai only rolled his eyes and waved his hands over towards the boys all taking a ball out of the cart.

"Just, go help with passes!"

It took Apollonia a moment—and a couple of flustered blinks—before she finally hurdled back down towards Earth, returned to her straight-faced composure within seconds. She slid in the court alongside Sugawara and Asahi, both wearing bemused expression to why she looked momentarily shaken up by her interaction with Ukai.

"What was that all about," Sugawara asked.

"I don't know, but I think I've just been reprimanded," she answered, rubbing the spot on the back of the head where the towel had thumped her. Sugawara blew a bit of air through his lips—less than a laugh but not quite as dark as a scoff—and knocked his knuckles on her shoulder when she grabbed a ball from the cart for herself.

"Look at you, Apollonia-chan. First true day back and you're already causing trouble!"

From across the court, Tsukishima leaned his head slightly over.

"Oh, I didn't know that Swan-san was a _delinquent, too_."

* * *

_Ukai, Takeda, Kiyoko_

* * *

"You don't think that was a little harsh was it?"

Takeda looked to be a floundering mess after witnessing Ukai rap Apollonia upside the head with a rolled up towel; not because the act in itself was out of the blue, but because the foreigner he came to regard as cool, levelheaded and impassive, had actually reacted. Negatively.

Ukai wasn't ashamed by his actions, but he at least had the decency to consider that it probably would have been just as effective to just wave the towel at her rather than actually hit her. Still, he seemed pleased that he had rendered her speechless, and thus crossed his arms resolutely with no intention of apologizing for his actions.

"She's a strange one," he began, following her as she periodically tossed a ball towards Sugawara. "The mind itself is dangerous on its own. Hers is just downright scary."

Takeda perked his ears, followed by a small, "Huh?"

Ukai pursed his mouth and tilted his chin towards Kiyoko.

Kiyoko was a girl, and Apollonia was a girl, so surely Kiyoko would have knowledge of her character.

"Has she always been this serious?"

Kiyoko shrugged, tapping on the edge of her clipboard with her thumbs. "I've never seen her any other way."

"She's just a little brat like the rest of them," Ukai muttered, offering a brief, '_no offense_,' to Kiyoko, though the Manager showed little offense to his statement. He reached in his jacket's pocket and pulled out the sheet of paper regarding training for the Karasuno boys, flipping it open to glance over her writing.

"It took her this short of time to depict years of training and growth for each one of these kids, all individual, no two the same."

Ukai had to wonder just how observant she had to be to notice that Daichi could handle almost two kilograms of extra pressure that Kinoshita was three steps quicker, that Tanaka was almost four kilograms heavier—pure muscle she had assumed.

She had to _blink_, to be able to witness the changes in the young athletes, but somehow, he couldn't picture her doing anything more than taking their movements and bodies and storing their three-dimensional image on a hard drive in that enigmatic—borderline robotic—brain of hers.

"She spends a lot of time on those journals, doesn't she?"

Kiyoko nodded her head wordlessly.

"That's exhausting," Takeda piped in with a whistled breath. "I've only seen one up close. They're very detailed, aren't they, Ukai-kun?"

Ukai grunted and swiped the underside of his lip with his thumb and pressed against his teeth, tasting the nicotine residue on his fingers.

Thinking in itself was a sport—an exercise—and took a great deal of concentration, stamina, dedication and caloric expenditure. Thus, as with every sport, in excess it had its own myriad of consequences.

She had to ability to become so fatigued that even simple math would prove a challenge for her. She could overthink herself into a room with no doors and would likely spend her time wondering why the room had no doors rather than try to find her way out. And finally, if her intelligence _did_ in fact translate on the court as it did off, then she was vulnerable to shorting her own potential before she even made to try, knowing maybe _too much_ about her heart rate and physical limits.

He did not verbalize his thoughts, and only propped up his bottom lip with his thumb.

'_The first thing that shuts down isn't usually the body, but the mind._'

And the pragmatic types such as Apollonia were usually the first ones to go.

* * *

_Apollonia, Daichi_

* * *

"You know, you're allowed to say that you want to play volleyball with us."

Apollonia was taken off guard by Daichi's statement, having to do a double take just to ensure that she was not mistranslating his words.

She blinked lazily at him, holding back a scolding quip in regards to the water in his hand; the weather was a touch warmer than the day prior, and Daichi—being Daichi—did not shirk himself the effort of bettering his defensive skills, despite being the best at passing with the exception of Nishinoya. He should have taken at least three more sips of water to tide him over and replenish the sweat he had produced.

But she held back and focused on the firm—almost fatherly—shape of his face, and the expectant tilt of his brow.

"You do have fun with us, don't you? Finnish people are capable of fun, aren't they?"

Apollonia wasn't offended, though her face betrayed her by crinkling sourly. She was more perplexed by his sudden need to converse with her—about her feelings towards practice no less. Either way, Daichi felt admonished, and whipped up his free hand in repentance.

"Sorry, that was probably too much," he apologized. "But, you don't have to hold back. You're part of the team, too."

Her reaction was involuntary; her neck had jerked back almost defensively, and her mouth twitched into a frown, being sucked in by the bottom row of her teeth. She toed the line in what it meant to be, '_part of the team_,' placing herself in a position that was beyond that of just an athletic student and an athletic trainer. Willingly, of course, but she still struggled with her hesitance to fully understand exactly what she was. Neither black nor white, she found herself often shrouded in grey, like a newborn cygnet.

Her eyes washed over the boys as they took towels from the stack on the bench, and drank casually from their water bottles, dabbing their chins with the hems of their shirt. All different sizes and shades with varying faces and discolored personalities, like a chaotic painter's palette.

"You don't have to talk to say what you want to say," he said coolly.

She immediately wanted to confess her guilt towards Hinata. While she still believed that her actions were justifiable, she had not meant to unearth those wide, broken eyes from him—the same deer-in-headlights appearance she had instigated from Nishinoya—she had only meant to speak realistically. But, of course, she had tripped over her own fumbling legs, and had once again disheartened a simple soul with even simpler words.

Daichi passed the water bottle to Apollonia, though she did not take it.

"Just give them something to follow," he said.

He didn't look at her. Rather, when Apollonia turned her head, he was staring down the the court, past the walls and through the horizon where the sun would soon set and paint the building with blue hues, the streetlamps dripping down surreal shades of dirty yellow and florescent white. It was a foggy expression of anticipation for the future, but the awareness of the present. He quirked a small smirk and tossed a stray ball to her, amused at the lost expression on her face when she caught it.

She turned it over in her hands with the meticulousness of a classic medical student: too dense and overworked to catch the obvious, but still eager to decrypt his strange, Eastern riddles like a puzzle—a psychological challenge.

"You," she began with a tepid hum, possibly entangled in a thought that she had yet to finish. "You've made great strides since last year. I've documented all that I remember."

She spun the ball again with enough force to turn her palms red, trapping it still with an audible, '_smack_,' as if she were trying to stop the world itself.

"But, I've failed to expand on how you have excelled as Karasuno's Captain."

She set the ball at her feet in between her ankles and tugged her sleeve down again stiffly—ritualistically—and picked it back up again.

"For that, I apologize," she said with her profile on a parallel plane to his, drinking in the same blue-blackened concrete and sulfur white lamp heads as his. She flicked her eyes towards him—though Daichi could only see the right—and bit back on her cheek, her tongue pressing into her bottom teeth as a gesture that she would refrain from further speaking.

She didn't feel the need to state what was already implied.

* * *

_Apotheosis: Swan In Flight_

* * *

She dribbled the ball down the court every other step until she came to the serving line, rocking it back and forth from wrist to fingertips. She glanced sideways to see Kiyoko looking pointedly at her with shut lips that—vaguely—could have been misconstrued as amused. She tapped patiently on her clipboard while engaging in a brief battle of blues with her.

She kicked a stray ball out of her way without breaking eye contact, twitching a miniscule grin when Apollonia arched her eyebrow: a nonverbal, '_what_,' in that terse murmur of hers. Kiyoko did not answer her, only tapping rhythmically on her clipboard in some sort of Morse code.

Apollonia hummed with a lower pitch, answering a question that was not yet asked.

Kiyoko only made a small popping noise with her mouth before it pursed again, nodding her head in acknowledgement.

"Do your best," she said as she took three large steps back from the court.

She lowered her chest, but kept her shoulders and chin tilted up and looked past the bridge of her nose towards the other end of the court and back at the ball in her hands. A quick whip and it was in the air, eclipsing the lights above until she could only make out the shadowed underbelly just steps ahead of her.

So many times before she had followed the ball with her usual three-step approach, today no different. She remained unchanged as she pressed off with her left, lunging with her right, sliding and skating to a stop before she turned horizontal energy to vertical power.

Her arms acted as a catalyst for her explosive core, pulling her legs up under her, tilting her hips so she could arch and twist her back without breaking her forward momentum. Her elbow cocked in line with her ear, her hand spread wide behind her head. She could feel the cords wound around her wrist, twitching and tensing as she flexed her thumb, a sharp line down to her elbow, then down to her shoulder. She couldn't identify whether it was pain or exhilaration lighting up her veins, she could only feel instinct kick in as her torso swiveled, arm following through with her hand cupping over, flicking to produce a topspin serve, one that took her years of practicing from dawn to dusk to properly control.

It didn't matter if it in fact was pain, or if it was just the thrill of being airborne again. She just felt so _alive_. So awake and conscious of the color of the court floor, the height and shapes of the doors and beams around her, the rush of evening air imparted by the opened door on her left.

Her legs felt delightfully numb, her skin having that comical, '_jelly-like_,' sensation like she'd fall to her knees the moment she descended. But they straightened under her once her arms curled—her left beside her clenched stomach, her right crossed over around her hip—and braced for landing.

Her left foot touched first, planting her firmly to the court, the right outstepping as leverage to halt her forward drive.

The ball's collision with the court coincided: blunt with a hollow echo that could be felt better than it could be heard.

She rose slowly, face unchanged, body still and void of any visible excitement—any visible anything, actually. She was unmoved. She only arched her neck to gauge the parabola of her serve from start to stop: when exactly the sharp drop had begun, how far above the net it sailed, at what angle she had given it, which player it would have chosen as its target.

Deep back, slightly to the left of the opponent's server and far to the right of their libero. A satisfying shot. But, she still could stand to do better.

However, Apollonia didn't get the chance to pick up another stray ball before she was knocked off her feet, and sent hurdling down onto the floor with another wrapped around her.

"APPLE-SAAAN!"

The sharp ringing in her ears and the thin arms crushing her ribs could only come from one certain frosted-fringed libero.

"Nishinoya, get off of her!"

Apollonia lifted her arm to see Nishinoya—not on top of her—but shoved under her, with only his head poking out, blue and pained.

"Apple-san, you're too heavy!"

"You're the one who attacked her," Sugawara countered, taking one of Apollonia's arms—Asahi taking the other—and pulling her to her feet with Nishinoya still clutched to her back like a tick. Daichi aptly removed her parasite with Kiyoko's clipboard by shoving it between them and scraping him off as if her were removing gum from his shoe. Nishinoya did not come quietly however, and sprinted under the net to the other side of the court yelling, '_Serve another one, I'll return it this time_!'

Her mouth stretched into an exasperated line—only a couple hours into practice and she was exhausted by Nishinoya's zealousness. Truly the boy's limitless energy had to be detrimental to her overall health, and Hinata proved no better.

"APPLE-SENPAI!"

He had tugged on the end of her shirt, but found his hands darting back to his chest in curled fists to respect her personal space, eyes wide and bottomless like a cavern of orange jasper. Kageyama was a few steps behind with a ball already in his grasp, an eager, expectant look suppressed on his otherwise stoic face. Apollonia only offered a quirked eyebrow, picking up a ball from the court floor and tossing it to Hinata, picking one up for herself.

"We should return to practice," she stated, flicking her wrist to settle to ball on her knuckles.

Hinata took in a breath so large that his chest must have expanded at least three times its usual size, a shaking smile baring only his bottom teeth as he struggled to speak. Whatever words and sounds he was able to assemble came out in a strained squeak.

"Uuuooah, yes, senpai!"

Apollonia nodded and back-pedaled to the serving line, tapping her calves again with her ankles, placing the ball at her feet, yanking down her sleeve. Her nose was pointed down when Daichi bounced a ball off the back of her head, forcing her to glance up at him sharply from her angled position.

He only greeted her with a controlled grin, one that could be left up to her own interpretation, as well as his own.

'_You're having fun again, aren't you_,' was what she took from his quirked mouth and stupidly proud chest.

But, as always, Apollonia was expressionless in return.

* * *

_Omake: __Tsukishima_

_"Different."_

* * *

"I'm home."

His voice filtered along the halls, followed my the muffled, '_tap, tap_,' of his sneakers being slipped off of his feet and dropped next to the only other pair of shoes sitting at the entrance, his mother's.

Akiteru was still away at college, therefor his loafers were missing from their line of footwear usually organized by ascending size. Akiteru was only a unit larger, and if he still wore the same shoes he had when he still lived at home, then they would be too-shiny loafers that his father would probably wear—even though his father actually had a reason to wear, '_dress shoes_,' unlike Akiteru—still, his brother was not the most delicate with his clothing and likely had buffs or scratches that he had yet to fix.

But there were no do distressed loafers laying next to his sneakers, only his mother's petite flats—matronly colored with just a hint of bright stitching.

A small, '_Welcome home, Kei_,' led him to the kitchen, where is mother had already set out his plate and chopsticks, and turned around to properly greet her son, chipper, upturned mouth and all. Her delicate smile was something childish, something that he had grown out of, making him look beyond his years. His brother—his older, yet somehow shorter brother—still had that certain look of youth to him. Even at twenty-two. Had Tsukishima just been a couple kilograms heavier, people probably would have mistaken _him_ as the older sibling.

Hell, he sure acted like it sometimes.

He sat down at the table, placed his head down in thanks—the clap of his hands louder than his murmurs—and ate slowly, despite the audible growling of his stomach.

The household was quiet, save for the clanking clattering of dishes with chopsticks and the almost indiscernible sound of mandibles breaking apart meat and vegetables. Upon his frustrating leap into adolescence, Tsukishima's mother found that it was near impossible to break the boy of his silence regarding his social life. At the most, she would get something about Yamaguchi, or about a test that she didn't even realize he had. He spent so much time in his room with his earphones on, she could have guessed he had a test every other day.

So, she made no motion to try and prod him about things he seemed reluctant to speak of—like volleyball, or any female suitors that had caught his eye—things she assumed to be everyday trials for boys his age. Akiteru was rather open with his school life, but Akiteru was not Kei, and vice versa.

Still, she was a clever woman, and had her ways of making her children speak.

To her surprise, the younger Tsukishima had reached out and filled his bowl with a bit of rice—not enough to qualify as another course meal—but enough to fill about half-ways. The opportunity itself was far too perfect, she just couldn't resist.

"Ah, volleyball practice must have been extra tough today. You've hungrier than usual."

Tsukishima paused, contemplating whether or not he wanted to indulge his mother in such trivial matters.

True, he seldom took seconds—if he ever did at all—and was never the type who could, '_save room for more_,' unless it was strawberry shortcake. But, he _was_ honestly hungry. He had a lighter lunch than he had anticipated, but he didn't believe that he had practiced any harder to justify a second meal. His stomach wasn't sensitive like Yamaguchi's and thus could afford to go with a little less and not grow queasy or weak.

And yet, there he was, plopping another paddle full of rice in his bowl, his chopsticks ready for plucking.

Yamaguchi had made some off comment about how tired he was just watching Apollonia serve, much less try and play like her. He tried to stutter out a compliment, but found his tongue tied, his feet stepping heavily over the other as they walked to their respective houses. For God's sakes, she wasn't even in their general vicinity and he had trouble choking out her name adorned with praise.

Just reminiscing their one-sided dialogue had instigated a small snort from Tsukishima. It went unnoticed by his mother.

Tsukishima, himself, felt as though he was not affected after seeing Apollonia's performance. She was tall, so it was logical that she could reach the net even if it was at the boy's height. Her Northern build was a little bit larger than the accustomed Eastern woman, so she must have had _some_ genetic superiority over them. She was obviously experienced in volleyball—she was by no means an amateur like Hinata.

He could still openly scoff at the name, '_Swan_,' that they had given her—because, truly he still felt that it was a ludicrous title—but, he was sensible enough to acknowledge that she was not _terrible_. She just wasn't a goddamned bird was all.

But, so what? So what if she was a decent player? Her form wasn't anything to chase after. Just because she was a fair athlete did not mean that he would suddenly grovel at her feet and praise her like Hinata or the Second Year Duo, Tanaka and Nishinoya. As well, he wouldn't silently marvel over her like The King had, and God forbid he stare at her dumbfounded like Yamaguchi.

Sure, his mouth may have momentarily slacked just from the _audacity_ that she was hiding skill like that behind that stupidly blunt exterior of hers, but, '_momentarily_,' was the key word. And he would dutifully take that to the grave.

Just as with Hinata and Kageyama's Odd Quick: for a split second it was supernatural, but within seconds the novelty had faded, and she was back to just being another fatuous misfit like the rest of his teammates.

"Ah."

No, Tsukishima could honestly say that he was unaffected by today's practice. His hunger was likely just from growing pains.

"It was different."

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Apotheosis (n.) An exalted or glorified example. Epitome._

_The role of Athletic Trainer may seem exaggerated in this, but if you've ever been in school/ club sports (or just going to the doctor) the last thing you want to see is them sweating or showing hesitation._

_**Rakuen91**: I drew a small illustration of his expression on my tumblr, but I will address his reaction better in the next chapter, I left a lot of things unsaid this time around, so until next time._

_**minchen0897**: I definitely want to portray their reactions in greater detail, but if I added that this chapter, I probably would have gone over about 15k for word count, and I didn't want that be **that** sadistic._

_**ChigUnnie**: Oh my God, your precious reviews are going to be the death of me. YES, the bag is pretty big, it could probably fit Hinata or Noya in it, I love it! I'd pack them up and steal them for myself!_

_**cookie2718**: Anytime, I love your blog! Oh my goodness, thank you, I'm really trying to keep everyone sensibly in character, so please tell me if I start drifting._

_**koreanlover21873**: You brave soul, my chapters are somewhat long, so I'm flattered that you finished in one day, thank you!_

_**Guest**: I love Lovely Complex, and height differences (especially gender reversed height differences where the girl is taller) I'm totally a sucker for it._

_Thank you for all of the reviews, favorites, follows, and time you have taken out of your day to read this!_


	19. Overdue for Redemption

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 19: Overdue for Redemption_**

* * *

_Kalajoki, Finland_

_6 years Before the Storyline_

_"Your Father's Child."_

* * *

Barely in her preteens, Apollonia was very thin, a late bloomer at its finest. She toed the water of adolescence; therefore her sprig-like arms, pencil legs, and flat breasts were really nothing to mull over—considering that aside from her unnatural height, she was shaped similarly as everyone else. But, it seemed that, 'everyone else,' always had something to say, whether they knew the weight of their words or not. It was very uncomfortable to receive unwarranted comments from her classmates and wary glances from her teachers.

In order to gain muscle, her father suggested that she enter a running club; a gentle push towards possibly competing professionally in Women's Athletics, and to unveil the superior Manner genetics that he had surely imparted on her. If she were any child of his, she would be able to effortlessly scissor jump one hundred and forty centimeters before she even finished secondary school. With his shoulders, she'd likely be able to compete in the Heptathlon and thrive in the javelin and shot put. He judged by Apollonia's early aptitude towards mathematics, that she'd be able to handle the eight hundred meter with ease—knowing exactly how much effort she had to put in in order to have a negative split.

Of course, Apollonia only simply wanted to gain enough weight so that her teachers would stop asking if she were eating enough at home.

She was no stranger to athletics: she enjoyed solitary games of volleyball, because her father had written to her that it was an, '_All around healthy sport that combined plyometrics, weight training and cardio._'

Of course, Apollonia didn't have the slightest clue what, 'plyo-whatever,' was, until she looked it up many years later.

Conditioning was by far Apollonia's least preferred manner of exercise, and thus her occasional jogs eventually withered down to leisurely walks—thus entered the running association per her father's suggestion.

The coach ushered her to take a lap around so that he could gauge her base time to see her skill level. She had warmed up as they had instructed her, and had done the dynamic stretches they had taught her. Blood and oxygen was pulsing through her veins like liquid energy. With a deep breath, she took her stance before taking off at the whistle's mark. It was her first impression upon any sport's association, and Apollonia was more than eager to please. The wind had sliced into her, like she were a glass window jammed open for a storm to pour on through. Her thin body pushed forwards, her shoulders and elbows tensed up with bad form, her arms swung stiffly, desperate to keep her legs pumping, her hips and legs had cramped up in effort to trudge faster. The coaches had told her it was normal for new runners to freeze up, saying that the pain and soreness would fade around the two hundred.

But after she had rounded the turn to bring her halfway, she had angled herself too sharply, her foot slipping halfway off of the turf and the nagging little vibrations had erupted into something unbearably loud and violent. It had startled her, the sound. And in her stupor, she fell. And it terrified her. Exercise was supposed to make her stronger, better. It was supposed to make her unbreakable, and here she was, broken. She was defective product, a misshapen glass form that had, '_fragile_,' marked all around in red and white tape, dropped carelessly on a gravel floor.

She thought she had at the very least sprained her left ankle on the turn—but according to the doctor, aside from several scrapes, she was completely fine.

Her childish face showed something similar to disbelief that the doctor could so easily say that she was, '_fine_.' How could nothing be wrong with her when the conflicting sensations in her joints and muscles were so bright that she couldn't even see two meters in front of her, when all she could think about was what color, '_pain_,' could possibly be, and if they had cut her open, would that be what she bled?

Feeling this way, was fine?

Apollonia's mother, Virpi, had a long tarnished record of health in her side of the family; and slowly came to understand that the doctor was implying that Apollonia's poor performance was due to her frayed genetics. Her body was fine but the receipts of her family history brought up, 'possible concerns for the future.' Apollonia was okay, but with Virpi's, 'condition,' there were still precautions that could be taken. When the doctor finally recognized their namesake and the athletic prowess of her father, he made a tsking sound with his chapped, downturned lips, muttering nothing more than, 'Such a shame,' but Virpir could hear what had been left unsaid.

_What a waste of genetics._

Without another word, Apollonia's mother allowed the salt from the doctor's visit to sting the old wounds on her skin, and took her daughter home. Virpi was not a nutritionist, nor did she work in child care, but she knew how to manager her own body, and could at least teach her daughter the basics of health. From then on, Apollonia could shape her own diet to better suit her. To make the pain a little more bearable.

One night, Apollonia sat at the dining room table—her mother home for supper just for the occasion—and was served what Virpi often ate to curb inflammation, in greater volume, of course, for her growing frame. Apollonia immediately grimaced, her picky palette obviously displeased by the taste left in her mouth, or rather, lack thereof.

"It won't be like what you normally eat since there is no dairy or sugar in it," her mother told her without looking up from her plate. "That's just one of the many things you'll have to endure."

Her mother's voice was always sharp, but as she sat along side her daughter, both of them picking at their brown rice and vegetables, lightly seasoned, not at all salted or spiced, her tone softened, just for a moment. She almost stopped before, '_endure_,' as if she had wished she had said nothing at all.

But, Apollonia picked up the fork again, and led the rice back into her mouth, followed by the lemon water her mother had squeezed for her, frowning as it all slid down into her stomach. She let out a winded exhale, and looked up at Virpi, an amazed and grateful expression hidden in her thin mouth.

She was so knowledgeable, so astute—definitely something to expect from a recognized University professor. Surely she'd be foolish if she didn't believe her own mother.

…

It was one of the last tangible luxuries she had asked for from her parents, but she tried to persuade them to think of it as an investment towards her health and fitness.

A volleyball net—an actual, mobile one that she could set up and play with any place she liked rather than just throwing the ball carelessly in the air.

"She has no future in sports," Virpi barked into the receiver. "She's not going to be an athlete like you want. She can't run or jump or move like you want her to. Her body can't handle that. _She_ cannot handle that. If she goes into sports, she's just going to get hurt."

The line was quiet for a beat, with only the faint sound of a pen being placed down on a desk, the rustling of papers in the distance, fellow coworks conversing behind him.

"She's a lot like you are, Virpi," Joutsen said coolly, borderline manipulative. "You are an incredible woman, the way you have raised her."

There was a beat, and for a moment, Virpi swore that the line had been dropped.

"But she is my child, too."

…

Neither Apollonia nor Virpi knew the net height regulations for volleyball, and thus just set the net up as high it would go, leaving both more than stunned at what two hundred and forty-three centimeters actually looked like. Apollonia wasted no time and raised her hands over her head, squatting down for what came off as a laughably awful jump.

Her fingers didn't even make it half way.

She was alone on the sand—aside from her mother—far too early in the morning on the weekend for someone of her age, with her net set up on a flat patch, her knee already throbbing and taking her attention away from the net's immaculate height. She could not control the consciousness that she had of her pain—and thus a small stab in her left knee had quickly spread to her hip, then to her shoulder, and all the way down her right arm. She barely had to do anything, and suddenly her body was alive with a fire that burned without ever being ignited.

Apollonia curled onto her feet, shaking and unsteady, but still, she rose, pale tresses nauseatingly familiar in the morning sunrise.

"We should trim your hair," Virpi said without prompt, earning her daughter's attention, a small puff of wind tousling the young girl's heavy pageboy cut.

"That way, you'll be able to see everything on the court."

…

Both Virpi and Joutsen had very high pain tolerances, and surely that had not skipped out on Apollonia. But, the small child still scowled and grimaced at whatever she could identify as pain—blowing everything out of proportion, according to her father. Being realistic, according to her mother.

"She is just overthinking it," Joutsen stated, moving the phone to his shoulder as he typed, "She's still a little kid and probably thinks it's a big deal that she might have what you have. She doesn't even know what it is. She just needs to know that it's all in her mind. She's a smart kid, definitely takes after you."

Virpi had glanced out into the backyard where Apollonia stood on her toes, her arms held high above her head. She was shaking—visibly—before she collapsed on her backside, holding her right shoulder with dexterous skinny fingers. Apollonia had always been an unnaturally focused and curious child—not outwardly admitted, but shown through her drive to perfect even the smallest of ministrations: like the flexing of her fingers or the pointing of her toes during an attempted block.

She had her father's long arms, and his sinewy athletic frame, his penchant for sports.

Virpi on the other hand, had only given her cold, calculating eyes, a weak immune system, and a strict, organized upbringing.

But, if she could only impart one more thing on Apollonia, then it would be her thick skin.

…

"The American beaches look warm. So do they in the east. I think that I'd like to see the east. Past Russia."

Apollonia did not glance up from her computer, typing furiously as she spoke. She had roughly six different tabs open: one for the education in America, another for hotel prices, two more for books and software on the Japanese language, and two more for the school start dates of both countries. Beside her was a map from her textbook with cities around the western portion of America marked lightly in pencil, a notepad over Japan. Growing up in Kalajoki, it was no surprise that Apollonia was partial to coastal waters. Virpi didn't respond; she just watched her child from behind.

Slowly, over time, her shoulders had grown a little more solid, her arms less skeletal and more curved like branches. She had professed her desire to have a tapered torso—and bearing her father's refined apple shape, the likelihood that she would was more than just possible. It was certain. Yet, even with a body akin to her father's, she still had grown visibly sluggish from all the responsibilities she had taken on in keeping herself healthy and inflammation free, as well as all of the hardships she had willingly endured along the way. She was wearied by simple things, and sometimes spent hours in her bed—trying to mask her pained grunts the day after a long run or an afternoon of serves and blocks—before she was able to stumble out to face the day. Though it wasn't physical: in the pit of her stomach Virpri felt that it was a mental hurdle not easily unbolted. Yet another terribly quality of hers that absolutely shone in her daughter.

Virpi could only stand back in the threshold as Apollonia sat in front of her, back erect and poised in her chair, talking nonsense of travel and frivolous sports as if it were so simple. Though, her awareness of expense and cultural adaptation still showed by the stacks and stacks of books on her desk—all foreign, all read and riddled with colored note pads and monetary calculations.

Virpi had to hold back to keep from snorting, her eyebrows twitching up momentarily.

"Above everything else," she said as she looked down at her daughter, for once, bearing a gentle expression, even though her lips had turned down.

Apollonia, after weeks, months, eventually years, had grown a face like her mother's—very sharp, even, unflinching, and unexpressive. Yet her eyes were not flat or empty like Virpi's—they were multidimensional, multifaceted and far more infinite than their color portrayed.

Had they been brown, they would have been _his_.

Virpi came to terms that she herself would ultimately have to endure that as well.

"You are ultimately your father's child."

* * *

_Present_

* * *

_School_

_Lunch_

* * *

"So, you're not wearing your brace," Sugawara noted as they walked towards the vending machines, Asahi in tow behind them.

Apollonia blinked as if she hadn't heard Sugawara, looking passively over his head. '_Didn't need it_,' she shrugged.

"That's good, isn't it? You wore it a lot last year," Daichi asked, retrieving his drink as it fell out into the holder. "You must have worked really hard if you aren't wearing it as much."

Apollonia just sipped from her bottled water, holding the rim at her lips to avoid giving him a viable answer.

"You seem less talkative this year," Sugawara mused, punching Daichi lightly in the stomach when he coughed, '_Save_ _Hinata_,' under his breath.

Apollonia tipped the bottle away from her mouth, capping the top before she leaned against the vending machine in a poor attempt to look aloof. She regarded Sugawara with a half-shaded look, but still refrained from speaking.

"Usually people open up as they spend time with people," Daichi stated, mirroring her closed-off stance in the light for her to see, "You're the opposite though."

"I've told you all that is relevant," she started, in a flat, knowing tone that was so typically Apollonia. "I believe my actions outweigh my words."

"Most of the time," Daichi returned with a shrug. "Running off to the library and playing volleyball by yourself in secret says something, I guess. It means you don't trust us, right?"

Apollonia's hand inched its way to her wrist, pawing at the fabric of her nylon sleeve, mouth closed.

"I do not want to burden you You should just be focused on training and leading the underclassmen rather than unnecessary things."

"But, you're not unnecessary," Asahi said suddenly, flushing a bright red when the attention of the three was suddenly turned on him. "I-I mean, learning things about you isn't any trouble. That's just how you connect."

Apollonia squared her shoulders, propping herself a little higher against the vending machine. Asahi took a slight step back—assuming that in some way he must have insulted her, though in all honesty, she was just amazed that the revelation had come from the glass-hearted _Asahi, _who was reluctant to say anything more than, '_hello_,' to her.

"I guess part of it was our fault for not taking initiative," Sugawara sighed breathily, "I hope that we haven't changed your mind about staying in Japan."

Apollonia's neck snapped towards the ashen setter, though she quickly slowed her movements to fake a detachment she did not actually feel. However, the scrunching of her lips as she ran her tongue along the underside of her teeth was quick to give her apprehension away. The edges of her mouth tugged down with humility, as if the words rising up were comprised of the most foul, bitter and horrid sounds, even more displeasing than oil on a white dress shirt.

"My mind is not changed. I just don't know how to make relationships," she finally said, embarrassed to admit that studious, responsible Apollonia was a brainless Neanderthal in the realm of human interaction. "Packing up and leaving is what I am accustomed to. But, I'd like to… How… do I act?"

Daichi, Sugawara, and Asahi's heads rocked back, openly astonished to actually hear the question leave her lips.

"You don't act," Asahi offered, scrunching his face for a better explanation. "You just… be yourself."

"Don't overthink it," the setter interjected loudly, lunging forwards to flick Apollonia's forehead. The Finn rightly flinched and rubbed up and down her brow and bridge, looking at her fingers in a shameless effort to avoid eye contact.

"I just don't want to be selfish by asking for your attention or to be accepted," she said after a beat.

She was accustomed to roaming around nomadically, from country to country, burning the funds her mother earned teaching college students, the funds her father earned at the airport headquarters in Helsinki. If she was going to continue exploiting her privileged lifestyle, she might as well have something to show for it.

_'I am too selfish. __And, I'd like to change that.'_

The clamor of bells alerted them to the lunch period ending, though they did not scramble back to their respective classes. Not immediately.

* * *

_Afternoon Practice_

* * *

Upon watching the shopkeeper enter the gym with Takeda in tow, she swallowed her one hundred and eighty-six centimeter pride and strolled up to face her athletic demise, to profess a simple, but still degrading, "Is it alright if I keep my jacket on?" with implications unsaid.

The request itself was odd: it wasn't as if there was anything wrong with her jersey, but it was cumbersome to wear during physical activities, especially considering how high the body's temperature could rise after warm ups alone.

So, naturally, Ukai answered with crossed arms, his upper lip looking like it had been caught in a fishhook.

"Heeeh?"

"I don't have an athletic shirt today."

Tanaka and Nishinoya had at once sprinted to her side, kneeling in front of her like a pair of serfs, arms thrust out with their respective tees in hand. They puffed their bare chests proudly, and kept their abdomens consciously clenched.

"Please wear my shirt, Apple-san!"

"Mine as well, Apple-san!"

None of the Karasuno members even wasted the breath of telling the both of them that Apollonia would have as much luck fitting into their tee shirts as Asahi or Tsukishima would.

Sugawara hung his head in his hand, while Daichi snatched them by the back of their necks and forced them to bow before dragging them off, each drawing out a, "Both of you, stop," and, "Put your shirts back on," respectively.

Apollonia angled her shoulders sluggishly, stoically exasperated if such an emotion existed, and zipped the neck closed. She took Ukai's lack of response and the bawdy shenanigans of her club mates as a sign that exercising in just her jersey was the least of the team's problems. But, as one foot went forwards, she was pulled back by the back of her collar. Ukai held her with two fingers as if he were handling a dripping bag of trash, dragging her back into place, tutting, "Uh-uh, not so fast kiddo."

"Azumane," Ukai called, waving him over, "Do you have another shirt that Manner can borrow?"

From over Ukai's shoulder, Apollonia narrowed her eyes in effort to persuade Asahi to decline; but, Asahi just nodded slowly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, sure. I have another shirt," he replied bashfully, "I'll go get it."

Ukai nodded his head and turned back to the Finn, catching the last bit of her stony frown before she erased it completely.

"What," Ukai barked in response, "Would you rather have _mine_?"

Apollonia's lips tightened as she tried to refrain from twitching her nose disapprovingly. It was a stifled, '_No thanks_,' in response to being offered the chance to all but suffocate herself in the smell of tobacco and faded men's deodorant.

"Don't make that face at me. Why aren't you prepared for practice today anyway? I need you to watch the lines."

Apollonia did not answer him—not directly—and just looked passively at the stand-in Coach, blinking once before craning her neck at a stiff, repentant angle.

"My apologies."

Asahi returned with his second shirt, an ordinary, off-white, haggard looking thing—something so, 'Un-Apollonia,' in form—though the Finn politely took his offering and ushered herself out so that she could perform a quick change.

Once she returned and took place behind the pack during their laps, taking a comfortable pace.

Ukai could only stand and scratch his head with one hand, the other curled on his hip—'like the old man,' his friends jested.

He didn't understand: didn't all girls have obscenely amounts of clothes, enough to at least get them through the week if not the millennium? Considering that she was a foreigner, maybe she just didn't have the proper funds to buy extra clothing; she probably had to shell out for housing and food every week, not to mention education and taking care of whatever feminine concerns she had. She was likely tied by her funds, being an outsider who wasn't exactly surrounded by people who could or were willing to assist her financially. But if anything, whatever host house he assumed her to be staying surely had the money for a new shirt.

He looked sideways to Kiyoko—wanting to pick her brain yet again—but caught himself. After all, it wasn't exactly the most tactful thing to do, to constantly interrogate underage women about their private lives. Instead, he redirected his head down at the medical carriers—one of them half opened—and made out the round, textured shape of sport's wrap.

From his understanding, single rolls of tape usually went for about six to seven hundred yen, give or take. And Apollonia likely had about four rolls in that bag alone. Hints of pain-relief spray bottles and jars shone from under stacks of moleskin sheets, overlapping a box of Band-Aids and a small bottle of medication, or some sort of aromatic oil. All of those name-brand and borderline exotic items without a doubt must have put a dent in the school funds—even though they seldom used emergency bags.

Ukai's mouth twisted into a question mark.

"How are you even able to afford a trial Athletic Trainer, isn't it costing you money for the supplies?"

"We aren't paying for Apollonia-kun," Takeda stated his brow creasing gently, "I haven't seen any numbers saying that we are."

Ukai knocked his shin into the bench as he whipped around, too surprised to even properly react. "So _those_," he stressed, aiming a finger down at the large bags at his feet, "Were solely funded by her?"

"I guess so," Takeda hummed, placing his hands behind his back. Ukai whipped his head back around to Apollonia, dumbly slacked. Takeda wafted a hand in front of his face to gauge whether he was still functional or not, gaining his answer when the stand-in Coach scoffed.

"She spends her own money for these brats," Ukai quipped, his lip hooking again, "So on top of writing these journals, she buys all the medical supplies herself."

He didn't receive an answer; Kiyoko just sat her booklet politely in her lap while Takeda cocked his head.

Ukai restrained the urge to just whip out a cigarette and light up: it was handling peculiar situations like this and even more peculiar people like Apollonia who really warranted a smoke break.

"You guys asked her to do this?"

Kiyoko glanced up from under her glasses and shook her head.

"Apollonia just sort of does things like that. It's just how she is."

"Both you and Apollonia-kun work very hard for the team, don't you," Takeda chirped brightly, instigating a brush of rose to sweep along Kiyoko's ears.

"She is very reassuring when she's on the sideline, because she's observant. She puts in a lot of effort into what she does. But, she's never made it seem like our efforts are any less than hers."

* * *

_After Practice_

* * *

"I'll be sure to wash it," Apollonia stated, "It will probably be dry in two days depending on the weather."

Asahi just bowed his head and flushed, "Ah, no-no, it's alright. Take your time. It's no trouble, really. I have more shirts at home. It's fine, honestly, it's-"

"I think you've made your point, Asahi," Daichi drawled, punching the team Ace in the shoulder as he slid through the threshold.

"Hope you're not getting sick, you're turning so _red_, Asahi," Sugawara's added over his shoulder, stifling a bit of lighthearted snickering.

Asahi responded with a strangled, '_Huh_,' falling behind Tanaka and Nishinoya as the two hopped out of the doorway after the Captain and Vice Captain, playfully clapping the Ace's back as they passed. Asahi reluctantly followed, pulling at his hair to loosen his hair tie. Apollonia as well made her way towards the door, jersey folded over her arm and bag slung across her shoulder.

"You're not going to wear your jacket, Apollonia-san? You'll get cold."

She turned around to see Ennoshita standing in front of Kiyoko, carrying the holder for the water bottles while the Manager gathered the last of the towels.

"Ah, I don't want to get my jacket sweaty. It takes longer to dry."

"You don't have extra clothes," he asked slowly, sensibly hesitant to tread waters he probably shouldn't. Apollonia gave no external reaction, blinking once as she tightened the buckle on her bag.

"It is difficult for me to fit into clothing here," she answered. "But, I usually have enough to get through the week if I time my laundry correctly."

Ennoshita seemed a little taken back. "So, you only have enough athletic clothes to last a couple of days? What about just casual clothes?" Apollonia shook her head, an implicit, '_Don't have much_.'

Ennoshita was thankful for his naturally, 'sluggish,' appearance for masking most of the astonishment that he felt, mutually for Kiyoko. He hesitated opening his mouth again, reluctant to risk insulting his superior or saying something that would likely upset her. Kiyoko as well seemed to fidget behind him, glancing from her shoes to the ground a few meters over, looking over Apollonia's shoulder, head, anywhere but her abnormally impassive face.

"It is fine, it has allowed me to stock up on medical supplies," she tried to reason.

Ennoshita and Kiyoko responded with synchronized head tilts, their mouths puckering down to express their shared, '_What_?' They exchanged a brief flicker of eye contact with one another before returning their attention to the Finn. Seeing that neither looked to be acting on the words that sat in their half-hung mouths, she made her way towards the doorway. Kiyoko puttered around Ennoshita, towels still in hand, and took one step forward after Apollonia.

"Wai-"

"Oi, are you guys almost finished," Sugawara called, a mere three steps from the gym, "It's getting pretty late."

Apollonia flipped her jersey over one shoulder, stepped lightly down the incline, and offered a soft, '_Ah_,' in response.

* * *

"She does that shoulder roll thing that you do," Yamaguchi said quietly, pointing to Apollonia squished between a tittering Tanaka and Nishinoya as they made their way home, performing the said ministrations that he had described. She did it in a fashion that wasn't exaggerated enough to attract attention, but noticeable enough for Yamaguchi to spot from a distance.

Rather than chastise Yamaguchi, Tsukishima succumbed to the post-practice fatigue, and yawned into his hand, with only a spare bit of energy to utter a garbled, '_Whatever_.'

"We're volleyball players, we all do that," he retorted, shoving his hands in his pockets. "We all use our shoulders a lot, so it's normal."

"But, didn't you say that it's been getting sore lately? Maybe-"

"No," Tsukishima snapped, cooling his tone in order to regain his sense of composure, "It's fine. There's nothing wrong with it. Everyone gets sore." He paused. "Well, almost everyone."

Tsukishima motioned with his head to Hinata jumping and clicking his heels as he walked down the street, squawking loudly as Nishinoya whipped him hard on the back, congratulating the middle blocker for completing six of his twenty attempted serves, a drastic improvement apparently.

"I doubt people who are so stupidly energetic get sore," he mused tiredly. Yamaguchi shrugged and kicked a stray pebble out of his way before snapping up with a epiphanic gasp, instigating a delayed jerk from Tsukishima beside him.

"Almost all four of the third years have different positions."

"So?"

"All of us first years are middle blockers except for Kageyama." Tsukishima struggled not to roll his eyes at his friend's sudden epiphany in effort to remain courteous, though did not make any effort to humor him either.

"That means that Kageyama will probably learn the most from Sugawara-san. Hinata has been sort of learning everything from everyone: like his receives from Daichi-san, but he's really watching Azuman-san too-"

"Please tell me there is a point to this, Yamaguchi," Tsukishima huffed, zipping up his jacket a little bit higher.

"So, Apollonia-san must be the one who will teach us about blocking. The other third years have kind of implied that they aren't great at blocks."

"We've never seen her block," Tsukishima returned blandly, "She could be mediocre for all we know."

"You think. I mean, her serve was just so-"

"Serving is not blocking, though. She can jump and she's weirdly strong, but that doesn't mean her blocking is anything special. Blockers just block, that's it."

"I guess," Yamaguchi shrugged. "I don't know, she just seems really confident. I wonder if all people from her country are like that," he said, muttering a noise that was a cross between a sigh and chuckle. "Foreigners are so cool."

Tsukishima was a man of habit, and compulsion: his stride was familiar and rarely changed even when people were sprinting or crawling beside him. He was able to block others out and continue with his own rhythm, as if he were perpetually wearing his Somy headphones. It was a habit Yamaguchi was well aware of.

So, it threw him for a wide loop when Tsukishima missed a step, and slowed his stride by the smallest of centimeters. Yamaguchi turned to look up at him, and struggled to keep the twitch of his mouth in check at the boy's expression. It was one of thought, but not just thought: but contemplation as well, like a person shuffling through notecards for a public discussion.

As quickly as it came, it faltered, and the cool, aloof arch to his brows had returned: same old, unaffected Tsukki.

"I don't think plays like she does solely because she's from another country; if that were true, then the same teams would win over and over again," he said, almost causing Yamaguchi to grasp his chest in shock and tumble out onto the street for a passing car to run him over and send him to a land of the surreal. If he didn't know any better, Yamaguchi could have sworn that his old friend had almost complimented her.

It took him three excruciating long seconds to come up with his intelligent reply.

"Huh?"

Tsukishima broke face and frowned sourly at Yamaguchi, irked and unwilling to repeat himself.

"I don't think her ethnicity has _everything_ to do with it," he ground out, "Don't look so surprised."

Yamaguchi still walked staggered next to him, mouth gaping like a fish. Tsukishima was dangerously close to just snapping at his fellow middle blocker, before their attention was taken by the enthusiastic goodbyes from Hinata and the Second Year Regulars, waving off Apollonia as she walked down the street towards her apartment complex. Her departure allowed both Yamaguchi and Tsukishima to encroach again on the group, much to the taller blocker's displeasure.

"Ah, there you two are," Sugawara hummed, picking up stride again, "Are you both ready for Golden Week Training?"

Yamaguchi nodded meekly, but enthusiastically, while Tsukishima shrugged, stifling yet another yawn.

"Apple-san isn't sick this time," Tanaka chirped, balancing on the edge of the street with his heels, "Maybe she'll actually get to participate in a couple of dummy matches, like a three-on-three or something."

"And, she's not wearing that big old ugly brace or those bandages," Nishinoya added loudly, sauntering up and down the street with a snack bar dangling out of his mouth.

Hinata stood between the two with his bike leaning heavily on his hip, awestruck. "Whooah," he drawled, "Was Apple-san really that sick last year?"

"Ah, well…" Sugawara brushed at his hairline behind his ears, looking towards the sky as if his thoughts had transcended the walls of his own head. '_Sick_,' wasn't entirely the best way to describe it, but-

"She should know how to manage it herself, though," Tsukishima interjected. "That's what she's trained, or at least training to do, right?"

His voice, though quiet, had surprised the group, causing them all to about face and turn towards him straight-on.

"She does know a lot, but she doesn't know everything," Daichi returned, quirking one brow up making Tsukishima feel uncharacteristically chastised.

"Pfft, you have about two layers of pride to dig through just to get her to admit it, though," Sugawara scoffed before sobering up. "I suggest you don't take her knowledge so lightly. The reason she knows so much about injuries and injury prevention is because she likely has experienced it herself."

Kageyama straightened up: he was aware that she had joint issues, thus given the bandages, but if Sugawara was implying that she had more than just her joints to worry about, then he could have been inferring that maybe she wasn't as healthy as they made her out to be.

"Does she have some sort of chronic illness, or a disability?"

"I'm not at the liberty to just tell you," Sugawara confessed, "I feel a little guilty actually, for saying so much already." His voice dropped slightly, his eyes sharpening as he returned his hands to his pockets. "We'd like to help her all that we can, but it's difficult when you can barely converse with her, much less try to ask her a simple question. Honestly, it can be a bit worrisome. It's like waiting for a tree to get struck in a lightning storm."

The first years stood in their loose little flock, gangly, gawky and uncooperative, but all unified by their reluctance to respond. The upperclassmen seemed to stand a little taller together, all connected by an understanding they had yet to figure out. A brief still had washed over the group, each member being confined to their own brand of contemplative silence, until the calm was broken by Hinata all but jumping out of his skin, throwing his leg over his bike and whipping past them like a storm of sunlight—if such a disaster existed.

"I'll be right back," he called, flipping his bike around and nearly running over Kageyama and Tanaka in the process.

"Hey dumbass, don't just charge on through!"

"Hinata, come back here and face your senpai like a man!"

The middle blocker's howled, '_So-o-o-orry_,' thinned as he pedaled around the corner—the wrong corner—and then again as he double backed and flew down the correct street, swerving around trashcans.

"Hinata, at least put on your bike lamp!"

"R-right, thanks Sugawara-san!"

* * *

Apollonia had an incredible amount of focus—often either praised or criticized depending on the situation—but, nonetheless, her ability to concentrate even with thunderous personalities like Nishinoya and Tanaka in close range was noteworthy. She did not often flinch, nor was she easily shaken. Jump scares and surprises did not affect her as they did, 'types,' such as Asahi. It was a talent she bore, her focus—but it had its drawbacks.

She was able to become so engrossed in sight that her hearing was almost entirely compromised. The more her eyes zeroed in on whatever was in front of her, the less she could hear the voices or sounds around her. By turning down the metaphorical dial on her eardrum, she was able to block out distractions, her inhales and exhales serving as white noise for replacement.

Sugawara experienced such trials firsthand being the unfortunate individual forced to break her from studying or writing in her practice journals. Even after doing it so many times, he still was just a little flustered gaining the entire class's attention after having to nearly yell out at her as if he were talking to his hearing-impaired grandmother.

And now, in the night on the path back to the apartment complex, she used the bare minimum of facial muscles to squint past the ink stained trail. She held her phone in her hand, open to the home screen to dimly light her way in the gaps past the street lamps. Her night vision was poor; however, rather than accept the fact that she probably needed to use a stronger flashlight app, or just bring an _actual_ flashlight on her walks home, she strived to push through the black and focus on reading the two steps in front of her.

Doing so, she failed to hear the apprehensive steps of a paltry man that lurked behind her, or the shaking hands and shaking breath he tried to stifle.

The man was an unremarkable white-collar worker with the misfortune of working overtime, struck with the desire to return home with an adequate light to shine his way without grabbing the attention of muggers or especially rowdy young men came by looking for trouble. It wasn't entirely common, but it's not like it was impossible, especially in the late evening. As long as he kept close to someone substantially larger than him, it was likely that he might be spared and he'd be able to commute safely back to his home with wallet and possessions untouched.

Therefore, without risking startling the tall figure in front of him—less he be a thuggish individual himself—he paced himself about four long steps behind Apollonia, and held tightly onto his briefcase with his thin, bony hands.

He all but went into cardiac arrest when he heard the graveling friction of bicycle wheels and turning chains behind him paired with a booming young voice calling out in a singsong sort of tone.

"APPLE-SENPAI! APPLE-SENPAI-I-I! AH-PPLE-SEN-PAI!"

He jolted forwards, stumbling into the back of Apollonia—who was more surprised by the sudden contact than she was of Hinata barreling towards them at breakneck speed. With her almost impenetrable focus broken, she whipped around and held her phone to the face of her, '_aggressor_,' seeing that it was nothing more than a skeletal paper-pusher staring wide-eyed at her.

The glare from Hinata's bike blinded her as it skidded to a stop, giving her the appearance of something not quite dead though not exactly alive, but undeniably frightening all the same.

"I'M S-SO SORRY, S-SIR," the businessman cried with his wrists and open hands shielding his face. "P-please, don't hurt me," he yelled, sprinting around her, his briefcase clattering loudly as it collided with trashcans.

Apollonia watched him run off—admittedly perplexed—before turning on Hinata, the light from her phone sweeping up to reveal his pale, stupefied face: mouth parted, eyes perfectly round, brows pulled so high up that his forehead was a patch of crinkled valleys. He clumsily tried to stutter out her name, shaking as he tripped over his bike running toward her.

"Apple-senpai, watch out for that man!"

Hinata stopped with his arms extended to his side, determined not to make a fool of himself. "I-I-I'll," he huffed, stumbling around with his bike still awkwardly knotted around his ankles. Skin slick with sweat, he tried—and failed—to appear threatening by whipping his head around in search for the man who was following her, but could not stifle his choked sobs or still his anxious limbs. "D-don't worry, s-s-s-senpai, I-I'll-"

"He's already gone," Apollonia said coolly, "I believe he was harmless."

Hinata was able to detangle himself, thankful that Apollonia had shut off her phone's screen so she'd be unable to see his face take the drastic shift from chalky-green to red. He quickly yanked his bike off the ground, and held it at his side, hands still trembling. Thieves and molesters weren't entirely common in their part of town, but the threat was still very real, and did not stop at Apollonia just because she didn't fit the stereotypical jacket of a, 'potential victim.'

"B-but, you don't know that, senpai. You should be more careful walking at night!"

He charged forwards to better verbalize his argument, though only succeeded in running over Apollonia's foot with his front wheel. When she tried to reposition herself off to the side, he then jabbed her stomach with his handlebar and basket, knocking the wind out of her with a soft, '_Oompf_.' He immediately dropped his bike again, waving his hands and clapping them together in repentance.

Once she recovered, Apollonia steadied the bike and relieved it from her toes, tilting it towards Hinata to halt his squirming. He hurriedly thanked her and stood pole-straight, blinking rapidly. He could barely make out the indistinct twitch of her brow, the small downturn of her mouth.

"I've gained the impression that I am rather unapproachable in this country," Apollonia answered, aiming her thumb back towards the route her follower had taken, "I receive reactions like that often."

Hinata bowed his head, guilty that he was no better than the insipid white-collar that ran from her as if she were fear personified. In his defense, she _was_ intimidating and didn't look like a very compatible personality at all.

But, Hinata had to note that even with the odds against her—the constant reminder that she was an outright foreigner, and a scary-looking one at that—she didn't seem visually offended. Though it could have just been her stoic demeanor, she honestly didn't look like she took the comments straight to heart. She was rational—she was probably the type who had an explanation for everything, able to describe it in the most frank, left-brain manner possible—and thus, she likely saw the reasoning behind the initial fear others had for her.

But, for someone so intelligent, she was pretty thoughtless walking around at night without the expectation of being attacked.

"Your parents don't mind," he asked once he regained his composure. Apollonia raised her eyebrow.

"Is it unsafe enough here that I would need to carry a weapon?"

"No no no," Hinata said hurriedly, "You can't do things like that here! I just mean… Uhm, well. I-I'd be worried for Natsu too, I-I mean," Hinata dropped his head and looked from shoe to shoe, before snapping up, almost lifting his toes off the ground, "You should just be more careful, senpai, so everyone won't worry!"

Had her legs not been as sturdy as they were, Apollonia probably would have fallen flat on her backside. A flurry of questions flooded her brain, each one begging more elaboration than the last. Blindly, she threw out her arm to pin down at least one.

"Natsu," she finally asked. Hinata seemed broken from his trance, relaxing slightly, his fingers resting softly against his handlebars.

"Natsu is my litter sister," he answered, though his face read as though _he_ were the one asking a question.

Apollonia's stomach dropped.

'_There is **another** one?_'

She blinked tightly and pressed the heel of her hand against her right eye—trying to both imagine and reject the idea of another carrot-topped, bright-eyed, chirping crow chick standing next to the one already in front of her. Once the thought thankfully faded before it had chance to properly manifest, she grasped for her next question.

"I worry the others?"

It was a voice of disbelief—not surprise, but skepticism—as if she suspected him of lying.

"Well, yeah," Hinata started, pulling his bicycle a little tighter against his hip, "Sugawara-san and Daichi-san were saying that since you don't say much, they don't know how to help you."

Apollonia raised an eyebrow, inquiring a subconscious, '_Help?_'

"You're not hurt, are you, senpai," Hinata asked. "Are you sick?" He bristled, "Do you have one of those exotic diseases?!"

Apollonia's ordinarily hard face softened for a moment, before she iced herself over again, chiseling her voice.

"Nothing exotic. But, I am educated on how to manage it," she assured tonelessly.

Hinata responded with a soft, '_Ah_,' expanding on the sound for an extra second before he quieted. He looked at his feet again, prompting her to ask her last question.

"Why did you follow me back to my apartment?"

Even in the night, Hinata's face lit up like an overheating boiler.

"W-well well, u-uhm, I just wanted to thank you, f-for all of your hard work as an Athletic Trainer, even before us first years came, a-and if you need help with anything, you can always ask us on the team!"

Apollonia sucked down a hesitant, _'… Oh_,' and tilted her head to the side, chewing on her lips and cheek.

"I appreciate the gesture, but you could have waited until practice tomorrow to tell me."

Hinata flinched. "Sorry, Apple-senpai, I'll do better next time," he said clumsily, causing Apollonia to tilt her head and crinkle her mouth in puzzlement. Her lips opened to question him, before they closed, a subtle, '_Nevermind_,' going unspoken.

"I will walk you back to your home," she settled for, already turning her phone's screen on to help light the way. "It'll be safer that way."

"Oh," Hinata laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head, "I… kind of live about an hour away."

Apollonia instantly dropped her phone, regaining enough composure to fumble and catch it before it shattered on the ground. Her face was contorted in such a way that not even her best efforts could mask her astonishment.

"An hour," she asked, tersely but shocked.

"I-it's good exercise," Hinata defended with a startled smile.

"I would prefer to know that you return home safely," Apollonia returned stubbornly. Even though her, '_job_,' stopped at their physical health and injuries, she still couldn't help but want to protect him from other hazards. Riding a bike at night, even with a lamp was dangerous, therefore Apollonia had her own reasoning to be worried for Hinata's safety, especially since no one else lived as far away from school as he did, and no one had the gall to _bike_ all the way down.

She steeled over, unmoving. She refused to allow him to just flippantly ride to and from his home after sunset whether his parents deemed it safe or not.

Hinata glanced at the phone still illuminated in Apollonia's hand, straightening up with forced confidence.

"I can message you when I'm home," he said brightly. He dug his own device out of his bag and flipped it open, holding it towards Apollonia, praying that he was courageous enough to keep from dropping his phone before he even received her number. Apollonia shifted her hand—just a hair's breadth—before retracting it, her fingers curling. A bead of sweat went unnoticed down the side of Hinata's cheek as she reached forwards and lightly plucked his flip phone out of his hand and replaced it with her own.

Fighting another blush, Hinata quickly wiped his sweaty palms against his sweatpants and typed his number in—having to backspace and restart after nervously punching in the wrong digits. Once finished, he looked up to see Apollonia with his phone closed resting on her fingers, held out to him like an offering, a feather. He took back his phone—taking extra effort to not carelessly touch her cold skin—and whipped one leg over his bike.

"I'll let you know when I get home," he assured eagerly, choking down his wavering tone.

He had to press his toes flat against the concrete to keep from whooping and hollering—and possibly waking the neighbors and get the both of them in trouble. He had a girl's phone number—he had _Apollonia's_ phone number. And though he didn't like to snoop through people's personal items without their permission, he had in fact noticed that other than someone named, '_Manager_,' his name was the only other listing in her contacts.

_He_, Hinata, Hinata Shouyou was her only other contact!

She didn't even have her parents' or even any of the upperclassmen's numbers!

He couldn't quite explain the bubbling excitement he felt at being the first person to take residence in her phone's SIM storage, but it was real, whatever it was.

Apollonia just exhaled through her nose, a quiet, '_Okay_,' to his promise, before tucking her phone in the pocket of her sweatpants. When she turned her foot towards her apartment complex, she gave him a stiff wave, a slow rotating motion of her wrist before spinning all the way around.

Hinata too returned her gesture—a little too eagerly—and twirled his bike around, heading off to his own home, wearing a smile that spanned from ear to ear.

* * *

As she entered her room, her movements were mechanical—prepared. She slid efficiently across the floor: taking off her shorts with two swift kicks, Asahi's shirt with one tug, all folded, tucked and organized like building blocks in her laundry hamper.

She flipped on her lamp and set out her journals and schoolwork, ready for completion once she was changed into dry clothes. She pulled off a banana from atop the pyramid of apples and mikan centered on her counter, setting aside an empty cup and an electrolyte packet to mix for a quick replenishment before she prepared a small meal for herself.

Once she finished leisurely eating her snack, she checked her clothes, seeing that overall they were mostly dry: at least two of her sweaters and another pair of shorts ready for wear tomorrow, she mused with a small nod of satisfaction. She folded the clothes and set them aside for the next morning, tugging on her bra strap with one hand while the other reached for her sweater, and bottle of chamomile lotion.

Though, just as she pulled her arm against her chest to slip it out of the strap, she was interrupted by a soft, '_whoosh_,' sound—her message alert—something that she seldom if

\- Hinata Shouyou! [20:45] : _home safely!_

Something small pulled at the edge of Apollonia's mouth, but was quickly was wiped away by the hem of her sleeve.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Bless you all for enduring this chapter. I won't bore you with a long Author's Note. If you want to know anything/ ask question, feel free to pm me or just leave your questions in a review. And OH MY GOD Nekoma OVA coming out soon, we get to see Haiba "Leg" Lev animated!_

_ I hope you enjoyed, and thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed, I am thankful for all of you, so thank you! Have a good night, everyone!_


	20. Putting Trust in Defects

**_Disclaimer_**: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 20: Putting Trust in Defects_**

* * *

_The Next Day_

_Morning_

* * *

_To a rented flat's entryway_

_You don't go anywhere anymore_

_You're scared of people_

_You want to leave_

_Leave from the world_

_To be nonexistent_

_To disappear quietly and -_

* * *

'_It means you don't trust us, right?_'

Those seven words bounced off her skull like cicada chatter, echoing so loudly that it literally broke her of her sleep. She did not experience a gradual wake like she was accustomed to, where everything looked feathery, almost surreal. It was a stark, six 'o' clock a.m. wake—her eyes not snapped or wide, just aware.

'_You don't trust us_.'

Daichi had more effect on her than she intended—than she wanted to let on. The more she repeated his question in her head, the more she altered its structure until it was no longer an innocent question, but a verbal attack.

'_Trust_,' was one of the many words that had confounded her: others being flimsy ideals like, '_beauty_,' '_romance_,' even, '_friendship_.' They were terms that could not be adequately defined, even by the most studious professor; nor could they be illustrated, even by the most imaginative poet. Even in another language the term read no easier whether she filtered it through Finnish, English, or Japanese.

**trust**: (n) _firm belief in the integrity, ability, or character of a person or thing; confidence or reliance_. (v) _to have or place confidence in; depend on_.

She tried to backtrack her entire starter year at Karasuno, relaying every vague moment and interaction with the crows just to pick apart and grasp for at least one instance of exchange regarding this flowery, mind-numbing concept of, '_trust._' But, she found nothing. In her fatigued, wearied state, she found nothing.

Now six-fifteen in the morning, Apollonia felt too stupid, too tired, too inept to be worthy of functioning society.

Her internal revelation was a heavy blow to her ego; though, Apollonia was not the sort to wear her esteem on her sleeve with a toothy side-ways smile, or a bloated chest. She was not one for theatrics; but she _did _care about what people thought of her, and did have a sense of pride.

When others looked at her, she wanted them to see a true professional at work; because no matter how adept she made herself to the culture and dialect, she'd still be seen as an outsider, as a puzzle piece that could never fit. She could not control the thoughts of others; that she could accept and understand. But if she could not control their opinions, she could at least portray herself in a different light, in hopes that they would bless her with their respect; respect that any person regardless of race or upbringing deserved.

But—Apollonia had to remind herself—she was not as astute as she liked to believe. It was her own disgusting realization that despite the exhausting lengths she took to appear able-bodied, she was anything but.

She found that she could tear herself down easier alone than she could with an audience. The quiet made it easier to detest herself and all of her imperfections. She didn't own any television, radio, or music player; the only sounds that ever danced off the walls had been her controlled and structured breathing or the muffled dialogue of her neighbors: white noise. The colorless silence was easier, because the hues that coated the words of her friends were always vibrant, always blindingly encouraging, even though she was still a complete stranger to them. And that puzzled her.

It was reckless to place their trust in a girl who could not live up to this, '_Apollonia_,' the had made of her. This, '_Swan_,' of theirs. She took on their tainted title of, '_fallen_,' as her own, but was still dragging around the, 'maybe she does, maybe she doesn't,' theory of her medical shortcomings, weighing them down with worry. With her flawed genetics and physique, her social ineptitude, and her incessant hesitation, she was undependable.

If this were a volleyball game, she would be unplayable.

A small growl magnified to a guttural roar as Apollonia set her forehead on the back of her hands, signaling that her stomach felt vacant, like a hollowed out ash. Her mouth curled, smacking together distastefully as she glanced at the unmade meal she had intended to fix for herself the night prior, but had never actually succeeded in doing so. Because, after sending her simple little message to Hinata the night before, her heart had completely stopped in realization at what she had done.

She had never messaged anyone before, and thus did not know the proper phone etiquette that teenagers like her should have already mastered. Questions and worries flooded her mind: was her response long enough, did she sound rude, should she use smiley faces, how long would it take for him to answer back, was he even _obligated _to message back?

She sunk to the floor and held her hands over her ears and pressed her nails into her temple, raking her fingers through her hair until she nearly tore her roots out of her skull. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she should have just left it alone. After ten minutes he still hadn't messaged her back, therefore she must have insulted him in some way: she probably wasn't kind enough, or quick enough in response. She had failed her duties as a teenager and friend, some way or another.

With the guilt sitting like a rock in her stomach, she had forgone—forgot—to prepare her dinner and had settled for just crawling under the covers and deep breathing until sleep freed her from the sense of hesitation and anxiety she had cast upon herself. However, she was not freed; instead, she had only succeeded in delaying her self-depriciating worries.

Now, with it being morning: her stomach was empty, her body was achy and sluggish from skipping her nightly meal, and she was shaking with the dread of seeing Hinata appalled by her message, or any of her teammates slit-eyed and wary of her discourtesy, thinking, '_Huh, is that how they do things in Finland?_'

She groaned, and moved her hand over towards the source of shocks in her shoulder. She dug her fingers in until she could almost hear the fibers give way, stretching and tearing like old fabric. She leaned back and inhaled, opening her arms out so that her lungs could properly expand. She held herself in place, and focused on the sensations coursing through her. Pain was an everyday occurrence, and wore many fashions and faces—and it was her duty to listen to the sounds it made running along her nervous, muscular and skeletal system, to determine its color and shade of brightness, to soak in the temperature whether hot, cold or somewhere near and far between. She had to study her pains, to look them straight on and finally, suppress them as efficiently and effectively as she could.

As the rhythmic shocks and shudders had quieted to just a low humming, she rose—her knees audibly creaking—and began rummaging through the spare medical supplies she kept in the corner of her room.

Once her hand met the familiar plushness of knitted fabric, she pulled it from her box of miscellaneous supports. She strapped on a shoulder brace—something she rarely had to resort to using, thus feeling a familiar disdain in having to do so. It was a large, unimpressive thing that draped over her like a sideways shoulder pad, flush against her like a second, softer skin. When she moved, it automatically warmed in order to loosen her muscles, and made shrugging and raising her hand over her head less of a trial.

She then slipped an arm guard on—not long like her nylon sleeve—it was stiffer, cut off perfectly seven centimeters each way from her elbow. After, she finished by slipping her hand into the gaudy plastic glove she knew so well—the Velcro strips even louder than usual as she unfastened and tightened them over her fingers and forearm, putting satisfactory pressure on her wrist.

She looked at herself in the mirror, arm covered in enough black, plastic and Velcro to render her as the prototype for something crudely bionic. '_So cool!_' was likely what the first years—just Hinata, actually—would have said if they were ever to see the all of the braces she wore.

But, they weren't, '_cool,_' in any way. To Apollonia, wearing them was shameful, a sign of her deplorable and dishonest physique.

She had worked so hard to shape the perfect body—form—to be an athlete: not physically appealing in the sense of feminine aesthetics, but in utility. She was gifted with a tall, thin build to start with; and while building muscle was a trying experience for her, she wanted the weight, because it would show them that she could improve. She could be healthy unlike her first flu-speckled, muscle-fatigued, drawn out, sick every other week year with them.

Not the best, but not the worst, she had the look of something formidable, something that was worth its weight in gold. But, Apollonia had always been the brutally honest type. She looked herself in the eye, knowing full well that this, '_strong and healthy_,' physique of hers was not gold, anything but. She was brittle, breakable, and jagged: like salt or calcite. Neither salt nor calcite were worn around the necks of champions, or melted in molds of crowns, or even worth more than pocket change.

She sat and arranged her legs into a lazy cross—not disciplined enough to be meditative, but not slack enough to be casual, and skimmed down the plastic and slim-fitted surface of her braces. She could so easily accept the limitations and exploit the strengths. But her, '_limits_,' were more complex than that. In Apollonia's eyes, it was a fault. Limitations were for judging the maximum strength or tolerance a product could bear. Faults were for judging whether something was worthy of ever being produced at all.

And she did not want to be, '_faulty_,' in any way.

She couldn't trust in faulty equipment, she didn't want _the team_ to trust in faulty equipment. It was dishonest that they look up to her when she didn't even deserve a second glance from them. That was why she went to such lengths strengthen herself, better educate herself, and prepare herself for anything: cover the faults and don't let them show. She is a shined, polished, unflawed end product of hard work and determination. She has to be, she _wants_ to be.

She hooked one of her fingers under the Velcro and removed her wrist cuff, sliding her elbow guard off in one, economic swoop, then undid her shoulder brace and placed it to the side, all three folded and nudged back into the corner. They would be the staples that held her together in silence—when the team was not present, at home. Like a professional, they should not see the things that kept her from breaking—that kept her from being, '_defective product_.' They had to trust that she was stronger this year; _she_ had to trust that she was stronger this year. She could no longer depend on the mental crutch of her braces and sleeves when there had yet been anything proven, anything concretely diagnosed.

She just had to ignore it, push it to the back of her mind, forget about it.

She still had a promise to fulfill, and and they still had to trust that she was strong enough to make it happen.

* * *

_Ukai, Takinoue_

_Sakanoshita Store_

* * *

"So, how working with the foreign girl coming along?"

Ukai responded with a sort of, '_Eeh_' grunt—a sound that couldn't decide whether it wanted to portray frustration or puzzlement—and dropped his box on the floor, scooting the products forwards as he restocked the shelves. Takinoue leaned back and propped his feet up on the table, having them knocked back down when Ukai returned, broken down cardboard under one arm, an unlit cigarette in the other.

"I don't know whether to treat her like a kid or an adult. She's not lively like the rest of them, but she's not the, '_talk it out over a beer and smoke_,' type either," the shopkeeper responded, muffling the, '_ktch_,' of his lighter with his cupped hand as he took a slow puff.

Takinoue scoffed. "Well, yeah, she's underage."

Ukai returned the sound with one of his own, along with a drawn out eye-roll as if to say, '_Obviously_.' He blew a bit of smoke out of his nose before smacking Takinoue's feet off of the table again. "Shouldn't you be at your own store?"

"I have time," he responded, picking up Ukai's volleyball magazine, leisurely flipping a couple pages right and left. "You said that she's smart right? Is she all brain and no brawn on the court, then?"

Ukai took a contemplative drag and leaned against the counter. "No, she's pretty strong. _Really_ strong, actually."

"Is she _that_ good or have you just gone soft?"

"Shut up, Yuusuke."

Takinoue snickered as Ukai rolled up the magazine and hit him over the head, smoothing down his sideburns as he propped his ankle across his knee. "So, what position does she play?"

"Middle Blocker," Ukai answered, opening the volleyball magazine for himself. "But, I've just been having her serve and toss to them. I've never actually seen her block. I guess with her height she should be at least decent."

"Put her in a group game, then. Like a three-on-three, or a race to fifteen, things we used to do. If she's good, then they'll get stronger playing someone better than them. I think it's from muscle memory or something. You get used to harder hits and better opponents. Or don't, man. It's whatever. I doubt guys would go all out against a girl, anyway."

"Well yeah, but the thing with her is that she said she has some sort of joint or muscle problem, so I don't just want to throw her in and then have to take her to the hospital. That's just troublesome."

Takinoue smoothed down his sideburn again, crinkling his brow with a small twitch of his nose. "I'm surprised she even plays sports if there's something wrong with her."

"She doesn't believe that she does," Ukai deadpanned.

"That's… strange."

"Trust me, '_strange_,' doesn't even begin to describe her."

Takinoue withheld a breath, weighing his options on whether or not he wanted to peg Apollonia as, '_arrogant_,' or, '_confident_,' of just plain, '_stupid_.' With Ukai looking at his puffed up face as if he were growing a second head, Takinoue finally let out a slow exhale before leaning back, propping his feet up once more.

"Well, it can't be helped, your entire team is full of a bunch of weird kids anyway."

"Thanks a lot, jackass," Ukai barked, smacking his feet off the table for the last time.

"Hey man, you're their Coach. I'm just giving you free advice," Takinoue defended. "_Quality_ advice."

Ukai grumbled something under his breath, letting it get lost in smoke as he blew out of the side of his mouth. He pulled a small notepad and pen from a drawer behind the counter, messily scribbling sideways across the paper.

"A race to fifteen, right?"

"You mean, you're _actually_ going to listen to me?"

Ukai did not verbally respond, instead letting his upturned finger speak for him, Takinoue laughing wryly in return.

* * *

_Afternoon Practice_

* * *

"First, you're not dressed properly and now you're not _eating_?"

Ukai's hand hovered over her snow-capped head, twitching fingers just brushing the tips of her flyaways. He struggled against his impending desire to just pull her in a headlock and press his knuckles into her skull until he kneaded the literal sense into her. But, Sugawara and Daichi appeared to had given her enough of a scolding during their classes: considering their identical scowls and peevishly cocked brows paired with Apollonia's none-too-discreet attempt to avoid acknowledging them.

"Ah," Daichi affirmed in a patronizing tone, "Apparently, someone went to bed and _forgot_ to eat."

"I was preoccupied," Apollonia retorted stiffly, as if the dialogue were preprogrammed into her like perforated sheets into a mechanical piano. Her defense bore no ground as Ukai and her two fellow classmates continued to burn the characters for, '_NO EXCUSES_,' into her skull.

"You'll just have to sit out for today," Ukai quipped, aiming his thumb at Kiyoko and the bench, "I don't want you passing out."

He was a regrettably a bit irritated that she picked today of all days—not that she had _planned_ it—to sit out, when his discussion with Takinoue had motivated him to take a broad step in coaching and actually put her in a match. It was going to a just a fifteen point battle royale, but still, he was fully prepared to see the extent of her abilities as not just a pinch server, but a middle blocker and hitter as well. He had the instant bitterness of wanting to ask, '_Do people of your country skip meals often_,' but refrained less he seriously insult her thanks to his short temper.

The boys sat in top priority, after all, so in reality, he shouldn't have been as irked as he was. She was still _just_ their trainer, a trial one at that. As well, he couldn't risk her health if she was already operating at less than one hundred percent. He placed his hands in his pockets, ready to give the rest of the team their adjusted workout, until Hinata nearly crawled over the hilly surface of sky-high hitters and blockers for the front.

"I'm sorry, I hope it wasn't my fault!"

He was absolutely discombobulated when Apollonia's title illuminated his phone while he brushed his teeth, that he nearly fell into a state of permanent shock right there on the bathroom floor. Natsu even went as far as calling their mother, yelling, '_Nii-chan died, Nii-chan died!_' at the top of her lungs. Hinata had to play it off as forgetting to study for an upcoming test, and spent nearly two hours trying to calm himself down, just staring at his phone. He didn't want to bother her with a bunch of senseless emails—she didn't seem like the, '_send a bunch of emojis and funny inside jokes_,' sort of messenger—so after having his head shoved face first into his pillow to mask his exasperated groans, he set his phone aside, and stitched his eyes shut for sleep.

He never thought that his text, or even the idea of him texting her, would have the possibility of interrupting her nightly routine.

"W-well, I messaged her yesterday evening, maybe it made her forget!"

Sugawara and Daichi had to take a moment to blink before glancing up at their fellow third year. Even with allegations of Hinata calling her the night prior—with all of the upperclassmen having the comprehension that Apollonia _never_ received messages except from her housing manager or updates on her bank account—Apollonia didn't even look fazed, as if a first year who _barely_ knew her texting her late in the evening was a completely _normal_ thing.

Nishinoya appeared to share their astonishment and immediately whipped his hands up for attack. His brazen actions caused his entire body to jolt and take a step back, nearly knocking Ennoshita and Kinoshita off their feet from his sudden reaction.

"WHOA whoa… _wait_." There was a moment of calm before he busted out in a sharp guffaw, Tanaka following suit out of habit. "Daichi-san and Suga-san don't even have her number!"

"What do you mean, '_even_?'"

Nishinoya clapped his hands around Hinata's shoulders, shaking him until his knees turned rubbery. "You're such a man, Shouyou! Your senpai have taught you well!"

"A real man," Tanaka echoed, slapping him playfully on the back. "I feel so proud of my kouhai!"

"You two didn't do anything," Ennoshita deadpanned.

Tsukishima scoffed under his breath, and covered the smirk inching on his face. "So, you've all known Swan-san for a year and _Shorty _is the first one to get her number?"

Hinata bristled at his implicit tone. "What was that?!"

"Don't call your senpai, '_Swan_,' so casually," Nishinoya barked.

"Tree-san, then."

"Dammit, Tsukishima!"

* * *

Once Ukai nearly threw the lot of them on the court for warm ups, Apollonia settled herself on the bench beside Kiyoko and took her journals out of her bag, along with their corresponding writing utensils. She watched as the Finn separated each notepad and carefully stuck the different pens in their wire spiraled spines—as if each book represented the boys bound in lined paper and colored ink.

As fascinating as it was, Kiyoko often didn't know whether she should feel unsettled or flattered that she put so much effort into her work. Kiyoko would sometimes clean her own penmanship just to feel as though she was putting just as much time in her data entry, even though both girls' paperwork took second chair to the boys' actual improvement. Apollonia and Kiyoko did not pipe up and put emphasis on the chores they shared; both were content in just providing support for them from the sidelines, Apollonia providing help on the court when she could manage it. In the realm of hierarchy, even though Kiyoko was technically above Apollonia, she felt somewhat stinted in her shadow, since she could not jump or hit like the foreigner, much less think like her and see the minuscule details she saw.

But, Apollonia was always straightforward with her praise towards Kiyoko—on the very rare occasions that she gave it.

With the boys constantly on the side, and Apollonia being as vocal as a leaf wafting through the air, Kiyoko was the only one to hear her infrequent—but always sincere—compliments; even though Apollonia always walked away with at least three pages of information after practices, and usually came in the next day with three more. She didn't really have to say it, but somehow, Kiyoko could hear the statement, '_It is not the quantity of work, it is the quality that is provided_,' roll right off her tongue.

Apollonia regularly asked Kiyoko for their times and percentages of receive success during their warm ups—when the boys were out of sight and the teachers were preoccupied—because, Apollonia was a person of privacy. And thus, she was privy towards short, polite conversations with little to no extravagance, which in all honesty was a blessing. If Apollonia outright spoke to her during practices, Nishinoya and Tanaka would no doubt have a field day that the two were engaging in the mythical art of, '_girl-talk,_' when it was simply Kiyoko reading off tallies and Apollonia offering her usual, '_thank you_,' given in that hard-edged, Northern accent of hers.

In the two minutes that the boys had spent peppering, Apollonia has already documented something or other, and tapped the pen three times against her paper—a habit that Kiyoko knew usually signaled a sudden observation she felt the need to share.

"It's deceptively humid today," Apollonia began, "Over eighty percent. The boys will need more water."

She tapped her notebook again, another indication that she was not finished.

"Hinata is getting better at his receives, but only on centers and right-sides. Yamaguchi runs knock-kneed. Kinoshita sometimes slacks during stretches, please let me know if his times suffer because of it."

She spoke as if she were in the middle of a lucid dream—not quite conscious, but very much aware of what was happening on the court. She never really commanded Kiyoko to act on anything, she usually just spoke what observations might benefit her in data entry and communication with Ukai and Takeda—she was keeping her in the loop, in short.

But, even out of practice, Apollonia talked as if she were not present, and spoke for the benefit of others. She was not very talkative—then again, neither was Kiyoko—but whatever information she did divulge was in regards to the team. Aside from her intelligence, not much was known about Apollonia. Kiyoko could usually pick apart her from her appearances and mannerisms, but only to an extent. She picked up on Apollonia's affinity towards cleanliness, her bias towards things that could be seen as, '_cute_,' her respect towards personal space, among other little trivial things. But in respect to other facts—from her favorite color to her deepest fears—she was completely in the dark.

Apollonia, again was not among the personalities she usually mingled with, but that didn't justify Hinata being the only contact in her phone. She was a stranger to their country and had just enough linguistics training and cultural tact to scrape by; having a first year that could barely spell his own name correctly be her primary source of communication almost seemed like a form of punishment.

"U-uh… Apollonia?" Kiyoko's voice was a little hoarse from going so long without speaking, but it grabbed Apollonia's attention nonetheless. She broke from her watch and shifted her profile a third of a way towards Kiyoko—likely only expecting no more than three words from her before they both went back to their duties.

"U-uhm… Did you want to go shopping for clothes this weekend?"

Apollonia tried her best not to look shocked—succeeding by raising only one eyebrow a fraction of a centimeter higher. She wasn't sure what she had done to instigate Kiyoko's request, seeing as Kiyoko had no reason to want to see her outside of club practice. Kiyoko was a very pretty and likable girl, after all—one who probably _liked_ talking about trivial things like the weather and pop culture—she didn't really seem like someone who'd want to associate with her under normal circumstances.

"I mean, you said you didn't really have…" Kiyoko drifted off; she didn't want Apollonia to think she was pitying her for not having clothes, she just wanted to give her a break from all of the testosterone she tolerated—that they _both_ tolerated.

"I… don't believe I would fit in many things here," Apollonia said after a beat.

She was not entirely wrong—Apollonia was too tall to fit stylishly in any dress or trouser, and though she was lean, she was still considered large by their standards—too large to fit in anything off the rack in the women's department.

It was a long shot considering Kiyoko did not know Apollonia's choice of fashion, but…

"The… men's section might fit you. And their stuff is cheaper, if that matters. I don't know if you are opposed to wearing men's clothes, but… It's just an offer."

It's not like she was implying that she buy boxer briefs and wife-beaters, she was just implying that a couple of unisex sweaters and graphic tees might tide her over so she didn't have to do laundry every day.

"I don't mind wearing them."

Kiyoko tilted her head to see Apollonia with her back erect, journal closed, pen sitting at her left side—another signal that Kiyoko had done the impossible and gained Apollonia's full, undivided attention over her notes.

"If they fit me, then I do not mind wearing men's clothes."

Kiyoko slid her phone across the bench out of sight of Ukai and the boys, trying her best to keep an oddly relieved grin from inching on her face.

* * *

_After Practice; Treatment_

* * *

"Nishinoya, have you been icing your bruises?"

Her voice ended with firm, unyielding punctuation; giving off the feel that her sentence was less than a question and more of a statement fashioned to expose whatever lie he was already concocting. The first years—as well as Ukai and Takeda—were taken back by her biting tone, blissfully unaware just _how_ serious Apollonia was regarding their overall health.

Nishinoya at once hid his left arm in his shirt like a bird's wing and backed shyly away from Apollonia, smile too wide and dishonest for his own good.

"Of course, Apple-_S-A_-_A_-_AH_!"

"He brought this on himself, he never ices," Ennoshita murmured, wearing a tired smirk as they watched Apollonia drag their libero by his collar towards the bench. Before Nishinoya could get a word in edgewise, she had already half-wrapped a portable ice pack around his arm, likely over a new bruise that he was bent on not letting her see.

She was surprisingly aggressive apart from the fact she maintained a perpetual air of calm, a revelation that rendered the first years as well as the club advisors mute. She was barely legible as a player on the court with her reluctance to communicate and her unflappable composure—and went to great lengths to ensure that apart from her eye-catching, foreign appearance, she stayed under radar.

Yet there she was, on the bench with Nishinoya pouting like a small child next to her while she wrapped another ice pack around his right arm, taking none of his usual tomfoolery as she ordinarily would have before.

"She's so serious," Sugawara laughed, breaking a majority of the first years from their trance. He wrung out his hands and wrists walking over to the bench—forewarning the Finn that he was having, '_Setter's Pain'_— and took a seat on her other side, gesturing to the others that if any of them had the slightest pang of discomfort, then they should form a queue beside him.

"If you don't get it out of the way now, she'll know," Ennoshita offered when the first years didn't move, already making his way towards the bench, Narita in tow.

"Apollonia-san knows everything," Kinoshita added weakly, following the two as they stood alongside Sugawara: Ennoshita rolling up his sleeve and gripping his forearm, both Kinoshita and Narita pressing their knuckles into their calves and quadriceps.

Hinata immediately broke from his stupor and bolted towards the bench. He flung his arms out to the side, hollering, '_Tanaka-san, can I use the roller after you_,' en route towards the wing spiker already sitting on the floor, raking out the knots in his own calves.

Kageyama tossed the last stray ball into the bin, walked over and shut the supply closet closed.

"You're not going to go and get treatment," Yamaguchi asked. Kageyama flinched—not realizing that Yamaguchi and Tsukishima stood only a few paces behind him—and shook his head.

"I don't really need anything. I feel fine."

"Kageyama!"

The beckoned setter jolted and turned around to see Sugawara waving one hand towards the bench—now makeshift trainer's table—while the other hand sat in Apollonia's, receiving what looked like a meticulously thorough hand massage.

"It looks like Swan-san thinks differently," Tsuishima drawled, "You should probably go get your royal treatment, _King_."

He snickered as a flush-faced Kageyama stalked off towards Sugawara and Apollonia, rubbing his palms together in hesitant circles as he arrived—likely per Apollonia's request. She held Sugawara's hand a little higher, pointing to different tendons and muscles along his palm and fingers.

"Oh, I see," Yamaguchi hummed, flexing his hands as if he were tossing, "It must be something especially for setters."

Tsukishima shrugged, mumbling, '_It's just a massage_,' under his breath.

"You're not going to get your shoulder looked at?"

Tsukishima tried not to look so affronted. "Why? There's nothing wrong with it."

His voice took on a clipped edge, just for a moment, before it settled. He never usually intended to be so short with Yamaguchi—he was his only true friend, after all—it was just that he had become accustomed to either using provocation or irritation to justify his words and actions.

Luckily, Yamaguchi usually endured in a manner too patient and understanding for his own good.

"O-oh, okay." He scratched a finger behind his ear and tried to ignore Tsukishima's looming stare; judging by the unintended shiver that briefly coursed through his spine, the taller middle blocker had likely already picked up on Yamaguchi's intrigue towards Apollonia's medical abilities.

Forgoing the hard sigh that usually came when Tsukishima seldom indulged in Yamaguchi's interests, he wordlessly strolled over towards the bench—where Apollonia had finished with Sugawara and had moved on to a pink-faced Kageyama—and stood at a distance, allowing Yamaguchi the chance to see her ministrations up close.

Ukai tipped his head at the two as they settled. "Are the both of you here for treatment as well?"

Tsukishima answered with a firm, '_No_,' while Yamaguchi meekly shook his head.

Ukai grunted and tapped his knee against the bench to announce his departure. "Alright, Manner, you're done." He yawned into his fist and slid one finger underneath his hair band to scratch his scalp. "I don't know why I need to supervise you anyway."

Apollonia put the finishing touches on Kageyama's hand massage by bending each finger, joint by joint. "It's regulation," she answered flatly, "Since I am a student, I am required to have a witness."

Ukai shrugged his shoulders, seeing the justice in regulation, but not necessarily the logic behind it when _he_ wasn't medically certified.

"Alright, before I go, I just want to remind you all of the Golden Week Training Camp. Go home, study, rest up, be sure to _eat well…_" Ukai put great emphasis on the last bit, Daichi and Sugawara snapping their heads towards Apollonia for good measure. She sucked in her lips and tilted her chin away from the both of them, too proud to let herself feel chastised.

"Overall, good work today, now go home," Ukai finished, wafting his hand in dismissal.

Among the chatter and rustling to get out the door—Nishinoya trying and failing to get a free Gari-Gari Kun out of Ukai—Apollonia gathered her bags, both medical and school, and zipped them all closed.

Ordinarily she would have hefted all three bags over her shoulders with little hassle and received quite the scolding from Sugawara and Daichi for refusing assistance; however, no sooner did she get one carrier over her left shoulder did a bolt of lightning shoot down her right, immobilizing her for a split second.

Most of the team had luckily been preoccupied with their own actions: Hinata sprinting for his bike, the second years discussing upcoming tests, Sugawara and Kageyama exchanging words over tossing, Ukai and Takeda already out of the gymnasium. She slowed her movements in order to keep attention off of herself—not a spare sound made or a visible cringe shown.

It was a sharp pain, not dull or aching, but sharp, running from her neck down her shoulder until it stopped short just at her deltoid.

'_From note-taking_,' she tried to assure herself; she didn't sit properly when watching them, or when documenting in her booklets or giving treatment, she didn't stretch, she didn't keep enough mind to loosen her muscles or roll out her neck in between breaks.

'_It'll pass_,' she pressed as she leaned down again to pick up her bag. But, the simple acknowledgement of trivial pain set off an internal alarm, and alerted the rest of her body that it was fully conscious of solely herself: the tendons running down her wrist had slowly begun to kindle, ready to spread like wildfire along her forearm, up her elbow, until it latched onto her shoulder. The slow burn pulsed, warming a knot in her back until it's wiry roots too threatened to clutch her neck and shoulder, shrill bells ringing in her ears as they clawed.

It grew louder, their movements more brash and uninhibited as she concentrated on the tendons and nerve endings coming alive with light and electricity. Her focus was closing in on picking apart the jabs and pulsations, fingering through the files of terminology in her foggy mind, looking for the right name, the right diagnosis, some form of closure.

But, closure she did not receive.

'_It does not feel arthritic_,' she first deduced, '_it feels muscular. But, it is not a strain, it does not ache. It is menial, it could not have set off everything else. I've done nothing with my wrist. I've done nothing with my elbow or back. I've done nothing today. Nothing._' Her fingers grasped the plush cushion on her carrier's strap.

'_So, why does it hurt?_'

Before the gate completely locked behind her and shut her into her subconscious, Apollonia broke from her mind, blinking a few times to bring her back out into the present. She stomped out the kindling fire by pressing her fingers into the tendons, suffocating them, turning her ears instead towards Hinata's pained yelps of, '_Idiot Kageyama, don't hit me_,' the setter retorting, '_Well, don't be such a dumbass and almost run over Asahi-san_!' She whipped the bag over her right shoulder, squinting and sucking in a sharp breath through her nose, glancing quickly around the gym to see if anyone had accidentally noticed.

She nearly dropped her bag as she met eyes with Tsukishima.

He was very much to himself, and realistic in view—often taking a sardonic tone to make his point, but other than that—he was a quiet personality. The polar opposite of Hinata. He did not rush over and ask why she was having difficulties, nor did he look like he cared. He just looked at her through his framed lenses: calmly, indifferently, studiously. Judging by his character, if he had anything to say, he likely wouldn't say it, unless it was skillfully inserted in an off-color comment.

She struggled to keep her cool meeting his gaze while straightening her chest, to show that her cringe was just a fluke, a trick of the eye. As quickly as they met, they parted without exchange. He descended the steps with Yamaguchi on his heels, mouth shut, face unmoved.

Kiyoko passed her with a brief whisper of, '_I'll message you tomorrow_,' out of the boys' earshot before filing out herself. She had nearly made it to the exit to flick the lights off before a small tug on her right-side bag sparked a few embers once more. They were dim, and settled, but it did not hide the knee-jerk reaction of clenching and wrapping her fingers around the slope of her deltoid.

"Hey now, don't carry so much."

She chose not to angle her head less the pain fully reignite, though even without, she could deduce that the voice was ultimately Sugawara's. He gracefully slid the carrier's strap off of her shoulder, and slung it across his own, patting the surface with a satisfied, '_fwump_.'

"See, it doesn't make sense for someone to carry three bags while the other just has one. Now the work is equally shared."

Sugawara had become quite skilled in conversing in Apollonia's, '_special language_,' of pseudo-pretentious vernacular and over-analyzed explanations. Rather than just say, '_Let me help_,' he had to jump through multi-syllabic hoops just to justify his assistance, because _God forbid_ Apollonia allow herself to be assisted once in a while. It usually gained a more docile reaction than just trying to take her bag without explanation, so it was in his best interest that he adapt.

But, Apollonia more often than not had a comeback at the ready.

"It is inefficient for you to carry a second, heavier bag when I am accustomed to carrying three. Do not risk injury on yourself before a match."

Sometimes arguing with Apollonia could be more draining than volleyball practice—because he usually had to outwit her to make his point, which was not always an easy feat.

"But, if you get injured, who will take care of us," Sugawara tried. "Besides, this will make me stronger if I get used to carrying more weight, right?"

She did not respond, but as well, did not make an effort to take back her medical bag, and placed her hands over the light switches, not another word said as the gym behind them went black.

Their feet were quiet along the steps, trailing only a few paces behind the rest as they traveled down the path. Sugawara stopped to turn towards the clubroom to put away her bags, but Apollonia kept on forwards.

"Are you taking them home," Sugawara asked.

"I'm going to look through my extra supplies and see if I need to bring anything else for Golden Week," Apollonia began, slowing down so Sugawara could catch back up. "Afterwards I'll combine them so I'm carrying just two bags, just one during matches."

Sugawara almost mouthed, '_It's efficient_,' but refrained when Apollonia did not say it herself.

"Well, that's good," he chirped, "That way you won't be carrying so much."

"I'm going to carry the same amount of supplies, I'm just going to split it between my school bag and my larger medical bag."

Sugawara mentally congratulated himself for not hitting Apollonia with her four-kilogram carrier right then and there. He quickly changed the subject.

"That's not all you're going to do over the weekend before Golden Week, is it?"

Apollonia shrugged. "Just Saturday. Cleaning up homework will be on Sunday."

Apollonia—in order to maintain her superior grades—often went through even the most menial projects and worksheets with a fine-toothed comb. She wasn't exactly their number one, but for a foreigner she was remarkably high in rank. Sugawara, unlike Daichi, would not admit that he was almost relieved when he would place even a seat higher than her once test results came back. Apollonia never saw point in academic competition against them—then again, she likely didn't understand their grading system at all what with experiencing two completely other methods of grading in both Finland and America.

Occasionally, Sugawara had to wonder just how intellectual Apollonia could prove to be in her own language—but often he had to stifle the thought, as Apollonia any more intelligent than she already showed was a notion that honestly frightened him. Hell, she could be psychic for all he knew.

"You wanted to ask me something more," she assessed.

Scratch that; Apollonia _was_ psychic.

Sugawara stuttered a bit, humbled that he had been found out, laughing it off quiet enough not to gain the attention of the team in front of him.

"Yeah," he started hesitantly, "Maybe you, Daichi, Asahi and I could play a little game of volleyball, just for fun. We've never really had a match with you that didn't have to do with practice."

He immediately regretted his actions when Apollonia did not immediately answer—leaving Sugawara wondering whether he had set or off or simply bored her with idle conversation.

"Sunday should be alright."

Sugawara almost did a double-take when she fished out her phone and handed it to him. Sugawara withheld a sigh and exchanged his as well, typing his number in quickly before holding it up at arm's length, smiling and holding his two fingers up in a, '_V_,' shape. The shutter went off a little louder than he expected, catching Apollonia's attention.

"What did you do," she asked, seeing as he was still preoccupied with fiddling around with the picture he took.

Sugawara held the screen up to show his blue-tinted face, a little fuzzy due to the evening setting and his stride shaking the camera. It wasn't exactly editorial quality, but it would suffice until he took a better one. "You can take pictures and set them as backgrounds for your contacts. You didn't know that?"

Apollonia shook her head, suddenly perplexed at this new and mythical use of technology. Sugawara was admittedly humored that Apollonia had such a stylish phone, numerous health and athletic apps that she—assumedly—had downloaded herself, and yet did not know that she could takes pictures and make them her background.

"Yeah, it works like this," Sugawara began, taking back his phone and holding it out. Apollonia leaned down to watch, but nearly jolted back when Sugawara had flipped the camera's view around, and captured a snapshot of Apollonia's ordinarily hard face quite soft with curiosity, while he wore an impish smile from seeing her reaction reflected on the screen.

"It's a little grainy, but it'll work until we can take another one," Sugawara laughed, showing her the buttons to press to make the photo a contact picture. Apollonia looked over her phone as if it had taken over a new form, her brow knitting as it did when she reached a difficult hurdle in her studies.

"Another one," she asked suddenly, not taking her eyes off her screen. She didn't see Sugawara nod his head or beam brightly at his own screen, though somehow, he knew his gesture had been acknowledged.

"Yeah, we'll take more pictures. A lot of them, as long as you're okay with it."

Sugawara didn't hold his breath for an answer when Apollonia retracted back into her comfortable silence; in her own time maybe she would respond, and exchanges such as these would be a little more natural for the both of them. He didn't need her to respond, he just wanted to ensure that his words were said.

That, in itself, was enough.

* * *

_Something makes you wait for tomorrow_

_Something makes you make afternoon tea_

_Something has yet to be resolved_

_In the sea the ice is still strong_

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_The excerpts at the beginning and end of the chapter are lyrics from Suvi Isotalo's, 'Tunnit,' translated to english._

_Also: I've been editing all of the chapters (changing minor things) so if you kiddies have time apart from your exam studies, feel free to re-read if you can stare at the screen for that long!_

_On an unrelated note: The Nekoma OVA with precious 194 cm tall Haiba Lev will be released March 4 of next year apparently. I don't think my heart can take that child animated._


	21. Sentiments

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga. If you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 21: Sentiments_**

* * *

_"Suu valehtelee, silmät puhuvat totta."_

_(The mouth lies, but the eyes tell the truth.)_

_\- Finnish Proverb_

* * *

**_Saturday_**

* * *

Kiyoko thought it would be courteous to warn Apollonia of her arrival in intervals, just in case she was taking her time eating breakfast, or deciding which of her five tee shirts she was going to wear. She wanted to keep the air light and cheery so that Apollonia wouldn't feel shopping to be another chore. Being part of a demographic that didn't have a wide selection to begin with was exhausting enough; but in Japan, being a girl of her size and shape, Apollonia was restricted fashionably to the point of just wearing a bed sheet and calling it a dress. Her options were limited, and Kiyoko wanted to ensure that Apollonia keep her mind off her limitations as much as possible.

She strode up to the apartment building where Apollonia was waiting, already looking strung out before they even got started, making Kiyoko rethink whether or not she should have tried to, '_hype up_,' someone as demure as the Finn with texts every five minutes. Apollonia barely talked in real life, she probably wasn't any better over the phone.

The ride to Sendai was quiet: Apollonia kept her eyes locked on her feet while Kiyoko kept her hands placed neatly in her lap. Somehow, Apollonia was able to keep herself in place even when their transportation shifted or jerked; she made a dubious effort not to touch or even make eye contact with anyone around her—including Kiyoko herself—and refrained from obvious fidgeting. She was practically a statue. Even Kiyoko was consciously smoothing down her skirt, crossing and uncrossing her ankles while simultaneously watching the businessmen type furiously on their phones.

'_She must be nervous_,' Kiyoko mused.

Though she wanted to, consoling her was no easy task: she couldn't exactly smile and say, '_We'll make you look really pretty_,' considering they were shopping for men's clothes, nor could she reach out and touch her, considering that she actually respected the personal spaces of others—as opposed to Nishinoya, who habitually abused Apollonia's passivity by taking every chance to climb her like a literal tree.

She cleared her throat softly when they came to their destination, Apollonia's eyes briefly shifted in acknowledgement as the bus came to a stop as they both stepped out in front of a tall, glass tower. Kiyoko quelled her amusement when Apollonia had to angle her head almost all the way back just to take in the entirety of the architecture, mouth falling open at the sheer size of Sendai's AER building. She didn't want Apollonia to feel ashamed of her natural reaction, even if she did find her expression charming. She was a foreigner after all, and was entitled to at least a little wonder without the fear of being mocked.

Apollonia must have realized her display, as she quickly snapped her head back level, and stared at their distant reflection in the glass.

"The shops are on the second and third levels," Kiyoko explained, leading Apollonia towards the stairs, "the first floor has a couple things too. There's a bookstore if you're interested."

The dim shimmer in Apollonia's eyes told her that she was doing all she could _not_ to show interest, and failing quite spectacularly.

They bypassed the shops on the second floor, seeing as most were expensive brand names far out of what Apollonia should have been spending for simple shirts and pants. Instead, they made their way up to clothing store on the third level, sidestepping a few kids sprinting past them into the game shop nearby. Apollonia tiptoed stiffly into the shop, as if she were a thief already guilty of the intention to steal. Kiyoko tugged on her sleeve's hem and motioned towards a wall of plain-colored shirts, waiting with arms clasped behind her back as Apollonia staggered behind.

She judged that Apollonia wasn't exactly looking for anything flashy or trendy, so she settled for starting her off with pattern-less tees—maybe with a stripe or two if they were feeling adventurous. She glanced over to see Apollonia's brow immediately crinkle as she looked at the mountain of different colors and styles displayed—whether in distaste or apprehension, Kiyoko couldn't really tell.

"Do you have any certain style," Kiyoko asked, the question coming out awkwardly as if to say, '_Do you have any style at all?_'

Apollonia's mouth slowly dropped open again, a small throaty noise leading her answer. "I wear… um… Monochromatic," she finally said, as if she had to climb mountains just to find the word. "All white, sometimes black."

Kiyoko was a little deflated that Apollonia didn't have a very exciting fashion sense; but somehow, the image of Apollonia head to toe in white didn't seem like such an implausible aesthetic.

"I don't really have a style," she mumbled, eyes fixated on the wall of tees as if it were a mural of fibers and colors she had never seen before, "I just don't like that…" She swept her hand down in front of her body in a scanning gesture. "That delinquent look. Like frayed edges or things that look dirty."

Kiyoko let a quiet chuckle slip through, making a mental note never to let Tanaka and Nishinoya give her fashion advice—seeing as both lived and breathed, '_delinquent fashion_.'

"So other than the color and style, I have free reign," she asked. Apollonia nodded in return.

The edges of her lips curled in a curious way, leaving Apollonia with the sinking feeling that she had placed her very life in Kiyoko's hands.

* * *

As she determined, Kiyoko was very much a token, 'mall-girl,' who actually _enjoyed_ the act of clothes shopping—especially if it was for someone other than herself.

From a distance, Apollonia looked more like Kiyoko's poorly dressed boyfriend than anything: she stood obediently still while Kiyoko held up shirts in front of her, draping them over her shoulder and around her neck when they were deemed worthy. After only ten minutes of browsing, Kiyoko was at least able to find a few articles of clothing that stayed within Apollonia's parameters, but still appealed to Kiyoko visually.

Not that she'd admit it out loud, but she sort of enjoyed dressing Apollonia: what with the awful street fashion that some of the volleyball upperclassmen had out of school, it was at least nice to see men's clothes properly coordinating with one another for once. Both of them could clearly hear the snickers and hushed whispers from fellow shoppers, pointing at them as if they were a sideshow for the store and shoppers inside— though Apollonia was far too focused on Kiyoko shuffling around, throwing things right and left at her, while Kiyoko was far too focused on whether Apollonia looked better in a crew neck or a v-neck sweater.

It _was_ a sight to behold: what with Apollonia—a statuesque, handsomely androgynous foreigner—being dragged around by a substantially shorter and undoubtedly pretty native as if she were a giant dress up doll. Kiyoko seemed to be more into the act of shopping in fact; Apollonia just nodded and puttered behind her for a while before she was nearly shoved into the dressing quarters.

They gained a couple of second-glances from passing girls going pink in the face, mutters of the, '_white-haired ikemen_,' hidden by painted nails and sheepish smiles. But when Apollonia conversed with Kiyoko to exchange shirts for changing they kept a few paces further back, intimidated by Kiyoko's attractiveness in comparison with their own.

In contrast, the men were indifferent to Apollonia—a bit stunned by her height at first—but not enough to dignify another look. They were far more interested in Kiyoko instead, watching her from behind tables, pretending to be interested in the product while they looked over her. After a few minutes of Apollonia being stuck in the dressing area, they had grown a little bolder, treading a little closer, though only one was actually within distance to talk to her. Kiyoko kept trying to inch towards Apollonia while she changed, squirming uncomfortably under their looming stares. She didn't take her socially-awkward Finnish club mate all the way to Sendai to be leered at by boys, and certainly didn't appreciate it either.

She sucked her lips in and tip-toed closer towards the changing quarters, casually tapping her foot and rocking on her heels as if she _wasn't_ aware that she was being eyed like a open barbecue. She breathed a nervous sigh, humming, '_Hurry up_,' over and over again in her head, keeping a deceptively calm exterior. She could almost _feel_ one of them breathing down her neck, until she glanced over to the nearest mirrored surface and realized that her nightmare was in fact, reality.

Her tapping nearly turned to stomping.

Apollonia wasn't the violent type, and wouldn't pick a fight in the middle of a store, but at least she was taller than the man behind her. Just her height was enough.

Shudders ran like lighting down Kiyoko's back as a heavy hand rested on her shoulder. She bit down on her lip to endure another crass line, another arrogant smirk, another pitiful excuse to get her phone number or take her out for food she really didn't want to eat.

She peeked up to see that Apollonia emerging from the dressing quarters with an armful of tees over her left wrist, completely unaware of her situation. But, when she was back in front of Kiyoko she arched her brow at her strained face, as if she could actually _hear_ her internals screams of, '_Help_,' grinding between her teeth.

It was then that something instantly washed over Apollonia's face, dripping down slowly like paint on a canvas. The white of her eyes darkened, leaving just a sharp thread of light hiding beneath the surface. From her skin came a heaviness that almost made Kiyoko weak in the knees, as if gravity around her had increased tenfold.

They didn't notice her until she cleared her throat, making slow, steady eye contact with them without speaking, without blinking. Her pupils contracted as they met the artificial light overhead, constricting like the aperture of a camera. Kiyoko wasn't even looking straight at her, and even _she_ could feel the navy bullets penetrating the people behind her.

"H-hey, we weren't doing anything to your girlfriend, honest," the closest man defended, before he was completely silenced by Apollonia's focus zeroing in on him. She made a small motion with her hand unseen by the other shoppers, signaling for Kiyoko to come closer so that the space between them was filled. Kiyoko followed, letting the hand on her shoulder fall back to its owner's side, and stared at the keychains while Apollonia swept over all of them again.

They tried to show whatever form of dominance they thought they had over her by glaring back and puffing their chests, drawing more attention to themselves rather than the towering woman just strides away from them. Some looked her up and down in effort to size her up, at least get a glimmer of reaction; but to their dismay, Apollonia wasn't baited. Her indifference unveiled the apprehension their eyes had been hiding, revealing the cowardly deviant underneath. They shook their heads, blinking awkwardly, before leaving the store empty-handed and a little unsettled.

Apollonia did not say anything when she paid for her items. Nor did she say anything when they left.

She didn't even say anything when they walked out together, both a few centimeters closer than when they entered.

* * *

They made it out about four steps from the store before a low growl gurgled from Kiyoko's stomach, flushing her face bright red. She expected Apollonia to tease her, though Apollonia actually looked worried that Kiyoko was hungry enough for her body to be making noises. Her alarm was cleverly masked by her low volume, questioning whether Kiyoko wanted to pick up something from one of the food shops inside. They both slumped down to the coffehouse on the second floor, Kiyoko ordering a pastry while Apollonia walked away with just a black coffee.

"That's all you're getting," she asked, feeling a bit self-conscious about the jam-stuffed sweet getting sugar all over her fingers.

"I had a heavier breakfast since I was scolded."

Kiyoko couldn't tell if she was trying to be funny or if she was actually serious, so just settled for a delayed, '_… Ah,_' in return.

A lull had followed, the idle chatter of surrounding families and groups drowning out Kiyoko's quiet chews and the thunk of Apollonia's cup against the tabletop. Despite its appearance, it was a comfortable silence; there was no need for words as Kiyoko tried to keep the jelly from falling on her blouse while Apollonia stared at her own fingers: long, thin and misshapen from years of jammed hits.

Kiyoko wanted to keep the amicable air that had finally settled between them, but as well, wanted to learn more about Apollonia as an actual person. So that maybe they'd talk about something other than _sports_ once in a while. There had to be more than just volleyball and a funny accent to her—she couldn't see Apollonia as someone who was, 'single-celled,' like Kageyama or Hinata.

"So…" Kiyoko gulped. "Was learning the language difficult for you?"

She looked up to find Apollonia scrutinizing her: sliding from pupil to pupil straight through her glasses, as if she were trying to gauge Kiyoko's reasons for asking.

"Finnish has similar sounds to Japanese, but the meanings differ," Apollonia answered slowly, almost as if she had another topic in mind that she wished to discuss. "I was confused that Japanese is gendered, though. That there is, '_masculine-speak_,' and, '_feminine-speak._'"

Technically, she was correct: there was a certain grammatical structure and certain words used that were, 'softer,' in comparison to others, and thus was referred to as, 'women's words,' or, 'women's language,' due to the ideology that women should speak politely and submissively. Though the grammatical difference stemmed from traditional hierarchy, through modernization it had been shaped to differentiate the voice of genders—not that it was a concrete law. It was just a social habit that was just sort of absorbed in her and most women alike being born and raised in modern Japan. For her it was not that noticeable, or at least not worthy of being noted—yet Apollonia spoke of it as if it were an entirely new concept, completely unheard of until that very moment.

Kiyoko dabbed a bit of sugar off her face, eyebrows twitching in interest. "That's not how it is Finland?"

Apollonia shook her head. "Finnish is overall gender-neutral. There are a few exceptions, but other than that—"

She looked away for a brief moment after feeling something off in the air, doing a double-take towards a group of boys in the corner: young, and a bit disheveled looking with their chins curiously tipped up at Kiyoko.

Their eyes did not glimmer with fascination like the few in the clothing shop; they had already determined their intentions, and put the pretty woman in their sights. She was but prey to them, sitting idly while they exchanged whispers between one another, biting down on their thumbs to hide their hungry grins.

Kiyoko followed Apollonia's line of sight, then shifted awkwardly in her seat, crossing her legs a little tighter as she looked away from them. When she looked back, she tried to steel herself and glare as Apollonia had, disheartened when it had little effect. They elbowed one another, goading for someone to take the plunge and approach her, though no one took initiative. Instead, they whistled a few lines towards her, breaking out in hysterics shortly after.

But, as they turned their attention towards her foreign partner, their faces instantly paled—almost comically so—and they picked up their travel cups, darting out as quickly as they could, taking one last look around their shoulder before picking up their pace, nearly taking off in a sprint. The lack of their animalistic calls had rendered the coffee shop quiet once again, almost peaceful as if it had been cleansed.

Kiyoko was fairly perplexed by the entire scenario: she knew that she was attracting unwanted attention—and stomaching the guilt that she felt from it—but was submissively dismissing it in hopes that merely being in Apollonia's company would keep them at arm's distance like it had done before. She didn't expect them to take off _running. _That is, until she got a good look at Apollonia's face.

Her head was fully turned towards Kiyoko again, though her eyes did not leave the spot the boys had vacated. Despite their round shape, they were sharp, like rough-edged gemstones faceted in her sclera, shined and molded to lethal perfection. Her eyebrows furrowed, making their arched shape all the more angular. However, despite her expression, her mouth was not torn down in a snarl, her nostrils were not flared, and she really gave off no intention of actual confrontation. As Apollonia always was, she was just naturally intimidating.

When she returned forwards, the scripted anger had faded, and she was calm—but poised. It looked arrogant to those who did not know her—as if she were pleased by her own display and searching for praise—but, Apollonia made no prompt for Kiyoko to thank her, or even recognize that she had done anything at all, in fact.

"I do not intend to insult your country," she began tonelessly, taking a casual, 'not-so-casual,' sip of her drink. Kiyoko prepared herself for the fatal blow; waiting for her to bring up the attention they had garnered on what was supposed to be a relaxing day of shopping.

But, Apollonia refrained. She was not shaming Kiyoko for being attractive—because she had absolutely no reason to be ashamed. Kiyoko should not be scolded for something so shallow, or be scolded for the shamelessness of her pursuers. Apollonia wanted to ensure that it was not Kiyoko in any way shape or form that had instigated the stern look upon her face—it was the lack of respect that was given to her for being simply herself.

"I am not here as an act of cultural diffusion, so I will adhere to your rules of gender expectation as much as I can. But, there are some things I will not tolerate."

Kiyoko nodded a gentle, '_Ah_,' and took another bite, finishing the last of her food before rolling the sugar-laden paper into a small crumpled ball. It was odd, what she felt after seeing Apollonia shut down all of her unwanted pursuers: it was as if no matter how big or strong any man claimed to be, she was somehow more thankful that it was a woman at her side that moment instead. She wordlessly built a fortress around her with one look better than Nishinoya and Tanaka did with clawed fists. Just an inkling of her steadfastness was revealed in her confrontation with Oikawa after their first practice match, but now it felt on full display. She was mesmerized, though she wouldn't say it, that Apollonia could appear so aggressive while still maintaining the patience of a saint.

"Are things different for women in Finland?" Surely such an intense atmosphere like that didn't just appear out of thin air.

Apollonia studied Kiyoko's face, surprised that she was genuinely curious of the topic. She could have bloated the gender equality that was always evolving in Finland; or else she could have discredited her country by noting its hazy laws regarding rape and assault, as well as the large number of sexual crimes that went both documented and undocumented per year. She could have spit back every bit of Finnish history back at her, colored in cultural evolution and political reforms, giving her the run-of-the-mill textbook answer for both sides, anything and everything that she could have found in a Finnish travel guide or internet database. At the time, Apollonia could have said many things; but at the very root of it all, they still faced similar troubles regardless of their laws and regardless of their culture.

She took a long sip of her coffee before tossing it and Kiyoko's paper in their respective trashcans.

"Things are not perfect, but they are not so bad, either."

* * *

They arrived at Apollonia's apartment heavy legged and drawn, a line of bags on each arm. After liquefying the AER building, Kiyoko had taken Apollonia around the city area so that she could find a couple pairs of pants, plus a pair athletic shorts in favor to her myriad of spandex tights.

Kiyoko made note to explain that her choice of just wearing spandex _did_ in fact have an effect on others, regardless of whether Apollonia believed it or not. Narita and Ennoshita and discussed in great detail that in order for Kinoshita to, '_properly study_,' her form, he had to look at more than just her backside in that empty-headed manner of his. Kinoshita gracelessly tried to defend himself by outing Tanaka and Nishinoya for doing it too, which only managed to give each and every second year punishment exercises until they had vomit-inducing cramps. Daichi and Sugawara none-too-discreetly warned the first years that if they were caught participating in similar behavior regarding both Apollonia or Kiyoko, they'd receive twice the punishment to ensure they'd never do it again.

Apollonia was on board with their philosophy, firmly believing that the boys should keep their minds focused on volleyball, and not something as meaningless as clothing. Kiyoko stifled a laugh, but did not correct Apollonia that they were staring at her legs, not her thread count.

"If you need help with the tailoring, just let me know," Kiyoko said with a yawn as they came up to the entrance of Apollonia's apartment building.

It was an odd day for the Manager, but not unpleasant. Despite Apollonia's initial standoffishness, she was semi-decent company, and probably could be downright delightful in due time. She wanted to say something before she left, something sentimental that would show her gratitude towards Apollonia's chivalrous actions—if she even wanted to call it that. It took a while to muster the gumption to speak, but after Apollonia gave a quick goodbye and tried to shimmy herself through the door, she had finally called out.

"Uh-m… We can do something like this again if you'd like. I had a nice time."

Apollonia didn't _look_ explicitly shocked, but the emotion still showed in subtle ways: her mouth opened a few centimeters, a few flustered blinks breaking her normally stoic stare. She honestly didn't know how to respond, and thus just closed her parted lips and gave Kiyoko a slow, polite nod before heading inside: neither confirming nor denying Kiyoko's offer.

She couldn't really understand how, 'fun,' could be used to describe a day of minimal talking and one-sided shopping, paired with leers from boys and girls and overpriced mall drinks. Apollonia was no expert on what teenagers did for fun, or _how_ exactly they had fun. But, Kiyoko didn't seem to have any reason to lie or console her—in Apollonia's eyes she seemed to be genuinely engaged in her company, though she couldn't imagine why—so surely Kiyoko was actually telling the truth. Had she the ability, Apollonia would have returned her statement naturally with a smile; but instead she just waved, '_goodbye_,' with a strained twitched of her fingers, and turned around, too flustered to look back.

In a way, she had fun too.

* * *

**_Sunday_**

* * *

_"Sinun jäljiltäsi katson itseäni;_

_silmieni ympärillä onnelliset poimut."_

_(After you, I look at myself;_

_Watching you with happy wrinkles around my eyes.)_

_\- Eeva Kilpi_

* * *

She was never the type to spend any more than two minutes in front of the mirror; even when she'd scrub her face and apply her lotions, she kept her eyes down or forwards towards something behind her, never really at herself. She liked to believe that she didn't have excessive esteem issues; she liked to think that she was an ordinary and contentedly average-looking person—disregarding being a gaijin.

But, it wasn't so much the factor of her foreign features that she was taken by looking in the mirror, as it was her general appearance.

She had come to terms with the small rim of lavender that was usually attached to the underside of her eyes; it was proof of her tireless studying and endurance to better her academic standings. She was unfazed by the occasional chalkiness of her skin, as traveling from country to country with little breathing room had left her with prolonged jetlag, followed by months of on-and-off illness causing her already pale skin to maintain a perpetual sickliness. Her first year in Japan really took a toll on her, and even still she struggled to adapt to their climate.

She wasn't the picture of perfection, but somehow, standing in front of the mirror as she readied herself for the volleyball match at Daichi's, she felt… healthy.

It was an odd description, but she felt a little easier on her feet, like they no longer dragged tiredly when she was walking towards classes or pushing through her private morning run. Her skin was less a dusty white and more a pastel color, something fair like cream, though not as pretty. Her eyes looked a shade brighter, even without the sun sitting directly on them. She just looked awake, as strange as it sounded.

Apollonia only noticed such a superficial change after she cut her hair; which was only prompted after a young boy led her across the street thinking she was Kiyoko's, '_Ojii-san_,' much to the Manger's amusement.

Her pale mop was no longer in the style of a disheveled teen idol, but rather a short and spritely crop: just above her arched brows, tapered to the neck, neatly trimmed. It was quite handsome in European aesthetics, though Apollonia was unsure if the Japanese would feel the same, seeing as it was less, 'cute,' and more, 'polished,' when she finished cutting it. How just a haircut could do so much was far beyond her understanding.

Admittedly, she was content with what she saw. '_Healthy Apollonia_.' She could become accustomed to the face of, 'Healthy Apollonia.' By the standards of stoics and emotionally-constipated people alike, it was sufficient to say that she might have actually looked happy, even though not a smile or smirk marked her face.

She scratched a tuft of down behind her ear, and looked away, before making her way to her bed where she had left her athletic bag. She slung it over her shoulder, and though she did not want to acknowledge it, she was almost _waiting_ for something to hitch her movements. But, she stood tall with little issue, not even a creak as she hinged her knees.

She was unsure whether she should feel relieved or unsettled that she wasn't feeling any discomfort in her joints after becoming so adept to it. Aches and pains couldn't just go away that easily. They never did and they never would.

But, Apollonia shook her head.

For her own sake, she'd stick with relieved.

* * *

It took her a while, but after programming Daichi's address into her phone—given courtesy of Sugawara—Apollonia eventually found her way to a modest home in a modest neighborhood that she assumed to be his. Asahi and Sugawara had already arrived and regarded her so airily, as if they had been spending weekend afternoons together for years. At first, she was visually shifted, but immediately drew back her saucer eyes and pursed mouth less she offend them. She liked to think that hospitality was universal, and didn't want them to assume that she thought little of them.

Besides, she had mustered all of her courage to push herself against the grain and actually _accept_ his invitation; and she didn't want to do anything that would ruin her chances of properly befriending them. Normally, Apollonia would have chosen studying in the dark confines in her apartment over conversing with other people any day. It wasn't as if she disliked social interaction; she _wanted_ to try and be a functional part of society and get to know her class and club mates, but she hadn't the slightest idea _how_. The _how_ was what broke her.

When they motioned her down out the back, she walked stiffly down the hall with her hands firmly at her sides like a wind up toy; making it obvious how little she set foot in houses other than her her apartment complex and route to Karasuno were predictable and well worn into her system, walking through Daichi's simple, unadorned hallway felt like navigating an entirely new country without a compass. She glanced around just taking in the colors and shape of everything around her, but snapped her eyes downward, because she didn't want to look at something he might not want guests to see, nor did she want it to seem like she was snooping through his personal things. She quickly followed after them with her neck held tight—so she at least looked like the definition of self-confidence without actually possessing it.

Apollonia made it all the way outside to Daichi's backyard before she realized she was holding her breath, and finally let it go when she leaned down to tie on her athletic sneakers.

There was no net set up; though she didn't really expect there to be, considering the area needed for a proportionally accurate volleyball court. She was still greatly confused by the term, '_fun_,' in regards to their, '_game_.' According to Daichi whenever she was summoned into their group, they would essentially be peppering while holding a conversation: talking while passing. So, all in all, it sounded rather simple.

And Apollonia was failing _miserably_ at it.

When she answered questions, she preferred to have a well-thought out response. To do that, she usually stiffened up and focused all her energy on deciphering who she was, filtering it between tongues, then would straighten up to speak. Therefore, before she even made it to the filtering stage, the ball was usually long dropped at her feet. It was only after about five attempts to crack her did they say anything.

"You're overthinking it," Sugawara stated, trying to keep his expression light. "If it's easier, you can answer in English. We're familiar with some English."

She held the ball carefully at her chest with no intention of continuing their little, 'passing game,' seeing as she had already made a fool of herself just by trying. She didn't want to come right out and say, '_I'm worried about looking stupid or offending you_,' or, '_I don't know how to have what you deem as a normal conversation_.' Her internal Finnish-to-Japanese translator was one spark away from hay wiring the longer she looked at them and the longer they looked at her. Painful hammering filled her chest that she was really so pathetic that she couldn't even play a simple game that required little skill with other people.

She _really_ should have just stayed home.

"I have difficulty with multitasking," she returned half-heartedly. "Focusing on the ball and the conversation together is difficult for me."

For someone so adept to volleyball, when it came to the basics—primarily communication—Apollonia was as bad, if not worse, than their own first years. She was a stickler for details; therefore she was too busy worrying about her form while trying to answer simple things like, '_What is your favorite animal_,' and gracelessly flubbing both.

They assumed they'd have to push her a little bit to get her going; but it was less getting Apollonia to _talk_, and more getting her to _interact_ with them. Rather than interacting with them, she had shut herself off so she'd be able to come up with a proper answer for them in favor of just reacting naturally. She was too self-conscious of how she spoke and what she said, at the same time she was too self-conscious about giving them the perfect pass.

"This isn't a pageant," Daichi offered lightly, "You don't have to answer the questions as if you're writing poetry."

There was a twitch of something in Apollonia: she was making effort to comprehend what exactly he was saying, without automatically assuming that he was belittling her. Upon seeing the downward tilt of her chin and the slight narrow of her eyes, Asahi murmured a nervous, '_Daichi_!' under his breath. But, the Captain remained unfazed. He didn't see fault in his exclamation: to him, it was a compliment.

"Although, it sort of suits you, talking like that. It's pretty, like those women in old black and white movies."

Apollonia didn't respond, but it became immediately clear—at least to everyone but the Captain himself—that just mentioning her strange dialect and word choice had just become, if it wasn't already, an obvious taboo. She still did not interrupt Daichi, seeing as doing so would only render _her_ the offensive one, and simply took his proverbial jabs without flinching. Not once did her poker face falter; she remained blank and numb as his good-natured teasing escalated.

"Like when when you promised to stay and play volleyball with us," he mused. "'My name is Apollonia Manner and I will help you soar!' It really set the tone for us!" Daichi knocked on his chest, expressing a sort of warrior's oath, chuckling at the thought. For someone so quiet, Apollonia could come off as noble, even when saying the most simplistic things. It was as if she were putting them on pedestals; she made them feel like heroes in a fairytale rather than a bunch of skinny kids playing volleyball. It was invigorating to know that she thought more of them than what everyone else had defined them as.

But, Apollonia herself did not look the least bit amused, or even remotely flattered. She sat at the edge of his porch, mouth set in a flat line. His laugh echoed in her ears, fading and warping with every repeat. The more they pointed out her odd way of speaking, the more she grew to realize that people probably weren't taking anything she said seriously, because she sounded like a one-liner on the underside of a candy wrapper. Everything came off as rehearsed and insincere.

She was anything but proud of her idiolect; she found her way of speaking overly polite in casual situations; making her come off as arrogant when she did not intend to be. It was a reflex; so as pretentious as her speaking was, it was like pulling teeth trying to speak informally, even in another language. In her own country, she rarely spoke, now in a completely different country where her facial expressions and varying tonal grunts could not be sufficiently interpreted, she was near _forced_ to rely on verbal communication to get her point across. Anything else would have either been rude or inconvenient. She didn't like her voice either: the way her R's rolled more than the natives', the way she over enunciated certain sounds, sometimes incorrectly. It was the fear of being wrong, of her imperfect accent, of them looking down at her as a foreigner that made her break out in a cold sweat.

"When I said… that," she began, face puckering at even the memory of her proclamation, "I did not mean that I would be your coach or exclusive training partner. I meant that I would do what I could to keep you on the court."

She was both arrogant and deluded enough to believe that just playing them would keep the team intact after the third years had left. Nishinoya and Asahi's departure successfully broke that lucid dream; and though their reunion wasn't as messy as it could have been, broken glass could never be fully repaired. In her eyes, she was neither strong enough, nor important enough to be a muse, but she had to admit that she much preferred to be a background character, or even just the background itself: blurred and blue like a blanket of forests in the distance. After their last game, when it really set it how little she was worth as a player, she threw herself behind the curtain rather than in front of it, and set out to realistically help them rather than rely on her own romantic heroics that didn't even exist.

"I am different from you—I will always be different. But, I don't want to be a novelty. I want to do my best supporting you."

Daichi looked almost chastised from his previous actions—once airy and teasing—now lost of his, 'Captain's Composure,' that he had pride himself on mastering. He glanced over to see Asahi and Sugawara with identical expressions, eyes modestly open with small, downturned lips and the word, '_stupefied_,' written in black across their faces.

Apollonia grimaced: she did not intend this sort of reaction.

"Please stop looking at me like that."

Sugawara had taken place on the porch beside her, but left a wide enough gap so that he wouldn't be intruding on her personal space and upset her more than they already had.

"Do you feel like you owe us," he asked. "Because, you know, you don't owe us anything."

For a split second, Apollonia was genuinely offended that Sugawara would regard her decision to be their athletic trainer as mere, '_payback_,' for being amicable to her.

"I wouldn't be applying for Japanese citizenship if this was for reciprocity."

Apollonia froze the moment the words dribbled out of her mouth, and didn't even have time to regain her footing as Daichi interjected, eyes open with disbelief.

"You're applying for citizenship?"

While she did have to live in Japan for five years before she could even be considered, the idea itself was all the same. It was implied that when she was twenty-one and in the middle of her University schooling, then she could apply as long as she filled the other qualifications as well: such as a means to support herself as well as renouncing her previous ties with Finland.

"I knew you were touring colleges," Sugawara exclaimed, "but, you're really staying?"

She shrugged; somehow, she found that mentally shearing the ropes that bound her to such a small country was an easier task than actually admitting it out loud to the three of them. After all, she would always regard herself as a child of Finland, born from Finnic parents and raised on the Gulf. Physically leaving her parents and her country was one thing; but verbally acknowledging it and acknowledging that in just a couple years she could be considered a, '_Japanese_,' citizen was something else entirely. It was as exhilarating as it was unsettling. And when she actually said the words for them to hear—that's when it really sunk in.

She was physically putting the country she was born and raised in behind her, and starting anew in a place that differed from hers culturally, linguistically, and geographically. The land that she stood on was more than just foreign to her, and yet she would justly call it, 'home,' and the people inhabited as her, 'friends,' even, 'family.'

Apollonia ran her hand through her hair, wishing to change the topic, but was only met with silence and heavy eyes.

"Way to make us look uncool," Daichi huffed after a beat of just staring at her. He settled his hand on the back of his neck with widespread fingers, trying to hide the dark red slowly taking over. Realization hit him hard after putting together the distorted puzzle of what Apollonia was trying to say, and he found himself chuckling off the embarrassment as best he could, cracking jokes to diffuse the tension.

"Wow, you- you're such a lame foreigner."

"Who are you to call, 'lame,' Daichi," Sugawara teased, leaning back to kick his shins from the porch. "It's a good thing the underclassmen weren't here, they probably would have cried."

"I think Asahi _is_ crying."

"N-no, I'm not! Daichi, I'm not!"

Sugawara let out an airy laugh, Daichi following suit in a small, stifled chuckles, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. Asahi quickly wiped away the tears he swore did not exist before he too cracked a sheepish grin, scratching his cheek with his finger.

"Good then, with all that being said, let's finish the game," Daichi pressed, trying to make the most of whatever daylight they had left. "Do you really want the first and second years to surpass us?"

"Not a chance," Sugawara scoffed, already pushing himself off of the porch.

Asahi quirked a brow. "But, haven't most of them passed us?"

Sugawara and Daichi whipped around, both with a glint in their eye that immediately put Asahi on guard. "What's that," Sugawara shouted, sprinting over to punch his fellow third year square in the stomach, "Negative beard?! Negativity begone!"

Asahi doubled over, holding onto his knees for support, as Sugawara dug the heel of his hand into Asahi's scalp, twisting his wrist as if he were opening a jar. "Suga, stop! You're going to make me go bald!"

"You gotta be a man, Asahi," Daichi laughed, "Or else Hinata will eat you alive and we'll have a new Ace."

Asahi pulled an alarmed expression as Daichi too shoved his fist into his ribs, and wrapped his arm around his head, pulling loose his hair tie, ignoring the cries of, '_Daichi, no!_' as Asahi struggled to pull his hair back into its tidy bun. Sugawara as the virtuous Vice-Captain ensured that the bullying was equally shared and elbowed Daichi's chest, making a dubious effort to humble the Captain by pointing out the red still staining the back of his neck. Daichi scoffed and crossed his arms, completely ignoring the new shade of pink creeping up his face while Sugawara let out a whistling laugh with his arm slung around Asahi's shoulder.

Apollonia tilted her brow as she held her lips up to the water bottle to take a long, satisfying drink, cracking her toes against the dirt floor while watching the circus act unraveling before her.

'_So foolish_,' she thought, choking down the sentiment as she watched them share so much through seemingly meaningless interactions. Their expressions looked so effortlessly given, so simple yet complex to describe. It was only an upturn of lips, a pinching of eyes, a swell of cheeks and bit of bared teeth, but it made them so happy, and lifted so much of the tension that once had such a strong hold on them. It was just smiling, it was just laughing, yet she was so confounded by it, at the same time, so enamored by it. It was as if they dismissed all that held her back before: her worries about acceptance, making sure her gratitude was shown, her intentions—all lifted from her. The weight of her body once again felt lighter, as if, 'Healthy Apollonia,' was once again revived after her brief fall of self-consciousness.

Her hand held down the twitch of her mouth, unsure if she was ready to attempt such a convoluted gesture herself. She took another drink before rising to her feet, ball on her hip.

'_Foolish_. _So foolish_.'

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_I have been drawing Apple wearing dolphin shorts for the past two weeks and posting them on tumblr so… If you don't know what they are, look them up (the 1970's version of them huhuhu.)_

_Thank you for reading, as well thank you for those who have favorited, followed, and reviewed my story! I appreciate you taking time to give me feedback and words of encouragement, so thank you!_


	22. Not a God

**_Disclaimer_**: Haikyuu! belongs Haruichi Furudate, I own Apollonia.

**_This fic follows the manga. If you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 22: Not a God_**

* * *

_"I swear by Apollo, the healer, Asclepius, Hygieia, and Panacea, and I take to witness all the gods, all the goddesses, to keep according to my ability and my judgment…_

_… If I keep this oath faithfully, may I enjoy my life and practice my art, respected by all humanity and in all times; but if I swerve from it or violate it, may the reverse be my life."_

_\- Excerpt from The Hippocratic Oath_

* * *

_One Year Before the Storyline_

* * *

Apollonia was a decent passer that didn't have much extension. Despite the level of her serves, she had a heavy swing; rather than whip her arms down, they dragged as if the were too heavy to maneuver. And though she had mentioned that she studied about a month's worth of gymnastics, the most she learned were the mechanics of landing but not the act itself. That was the case for Apollonia's many unusual talents: short bouts of intensive studying with little to show other than an expanded vocabulary. In Ukai Sr.'s words she was, '_A smart player, that never gave herself a chance._' Some days he spared no delicacy and just called her actions, 'cowardly.' She couldn't become a better player if all she did was read, she had to put in the practice hours as well. Volleyball terminology was second nature to her; all that was left to make her into something worth watching was testing her body in what her mind already knew.

But, despite all of that hard work she put in and despite her insatiable thirst for knowledge, her own skills somehow became useless in her own hands when she played. It was as if all of the positive marks on her record and all of the qualifications she had met were for naught.

Always it ran like clockwork, just before the climax of the second set. Arms once strong with the need to protect were shaking and trembling like cold, dead, winter branches. Thin and embarrassingly frail. No longer flexed but now curved in surrender. As Ukai Sr. ordered her off the courts she finally lowered them, slower than she thought possible. But it didn't ease her discomfort; in fact, her pain only intensified. But it would be selfish for her to tell them that. They needed to be able to play unhindered by her defects.

Apollonia didn't enjoy volleyball enough to beg for her spot back, but she felt an entitlement to the sport because of her tall stature and hard-earned strength. She had always been the, 'smart one.' Skinny and bookish. Boring and antisocial. For once, she had put so much work into being good at something other than academics and felt the need for others to acknowledge the fruits of her labor. For someone who shied away from attention, she still wanted what all of them wanted: validation.

But, reality always hit her hard and stripped down her, '_entitlement_,' when Ukai Sr. threw her off the court so that she wouldn't distract the others. False voices and unspoken words sunk in like poison: a self-destructive storm brewing while she struggled to keep face.

'_Who cares how tall you are if you can't even lift your arms to swing? __Who cares how smart you are if you're not even strong enough to finish a match? Who cares how good you are if you are never going to be good enough?_'

Waking up before the dawn to run, strength training at home, all of the hits she took, all of the endurance she built and she still crumbled. Her first impression had managed to leave a mark on Kurokawa and Ukai Sr. and had set her up for something grand. Almost a decade of playing alone, she could've played with a team, even if it wasn't competitively. She could have been part of their community; she could have helped them achieve an unreachable dream, to aid in their redemption. But from her bench she was left to moulder, forced to watch people play the game she knew so well but her body couldn't handle.

It didn't matter how skilled she was, or high her numbers ranked. They would always be better than her, because they actually had the health to play. She didn't.

The greatest pain that she felt was never physical, it was always mental. Waiting on the sideline had always hurt more than anything she endured on the court, because all the bone-deep bruises and bent fingers in the world were paper cuts next to the feeling of worthlessness. For years before she even set foot in Japan she watched hours of volleyball online and checked out books regarding strategic play for matches she would never be a part of. She knew the names of so many muscles and what their functions were, how to heal and take care of them. She had such an academic arsenal behind her, yet she came to this point every time, where she was rendered completely powerless. She couldn't do anything, and everyone _knew_ she couldn't do anything.

That's when it was most painful. When everyone _knew_ just how inadequate she was.

* * *

_Present _

_Wednesday, May 2nd_

_First Day of Training Camp_

_Karasuno Gym_

* * *

It didn't hit Ukai until Tuesday that Apollonia constantly looked distracted by her own teammates, though not in the way he assumed. It was less ogling them and more making sure they landed safely, keeping watch on their ankles if they stepped odd, being the first to grab towels not for herself, but for them. While she made it clear that she was skilled in volleyball, and stronger than her frame let on, she kept that power quiet and locked away. A part of him wanted to see what made her, 'Karasuno's Revered Swan,' but at the same time, he felt as if it was a waste of effort.

If she was worth her salt, then he didn't need to, 'unearth,' anything from her. The strong were already strong. It was the younger players he need to focus on. The first years were still rough around the edges: their basic skills and partnerships were not as refined as the upperclassmen. So it was impractical for him to take the time to train her, considering she was not an official part of their playing roster. And seeing how awkwardly she played with a group she was mostly unfamiliar with, he thought it best to set her back on the sidelines.

But Apollonia's eye for detail and neurotic tendencies could still be utilized in a productive way even off the court. Since she was privy with volleyball regulations as well as healthcare, she could act as a supervisor for both their skills and their well-being when he could not be readily available. The spotlight would be taken off of her, but it would be directed back at the team. If something productive needed to be done, he could usually rely on Apollonia to do it and be assured that it would be done with a competent hand. Everything she did, she did with the perusal for perfection. So, he figured that it'd be easy to confront her.

Unfortunately, Ukai found out the hard way that it was near impossible to gain Apollonia's attention during her studies. A cataclysmic explosion could have sounded off directly beside her and she probably wouldn't have even flinched. He tapped Kiyoko's booklet against her knee, receiving little response. Rolling his eyes, he nudged her elbow, causing her writing to smear. The look on her face would have petrified him had he been younger: but in his lifetime he had seen his fair share of angry women, though he had to admit that Apollonia sat comfortably in his top ten. Maybe top five.

"Most of the first years are middles," he grunted once she stopped glaring at him, "and we don't exactly have a surplus of upperclassmen who excel in blocking. But you're a middle. I'll likely have you supervise extra practices."

A beat of silence followed, save for the sound of Takeda's screeching sneakers.

"Sensei said that you helped coach before." He sniffed. "Whenever the old man dropped out."

"I have."

"It isn't that you aren't good. You'd do well on a mixed team. But, sometimes it's just better if..." He slipped a finger under his headband to scratch the space behind his ear. "I'd just prefer you be in charge of supervision. Not coaching. Just supervision."

Apollonia gave a light, '_Hn_,' in return. She didn't exactly have much time to process Ukai's statements when Hinata and Kageyama barreled on through in their socks with their volleyball sneakers clutched in their hands. They hurriedly dressed themselves while the upperclassmen hobbled in, sweaty and breathless from their run, almost collapsing as they found their way inside.

"Oi, you two, that was supposed to be a recovery run," Daichi barked, voice thick with exhaustion. The second and third years behind him let out a loud exhale, still trying to regulate the air going in and out of their lungs. Kiyoko fanned a discarded jersey over Asahi's face as he tried to act like the soreness in his legs wasn't excruciating enough to bring tears to his eyes. Somewhere still outside Yamaguchi was hunched over, body shuddering with the threat of vomiting, ankles red with blood blisters.

From his peripheral Ukai could see that Apollonia was stretched as tall as her seated position would allow, mouth soldered into a straight line. _Far_ from amused. By her vantage point, she could scope out the hairline scratches from overgrown shrubs and scrapes from concrete corners, all of their minor bumps and bruises obtained from Kageyama and Hinata's recklessness, turning the line into a full-on frown. An instant switch went off in her: she popped her knuckles and finger joints with restless hurry, eyes flitting from player to player, the skin underneath giving a reflexive twitch when they narrowed. It was as if she had lost all of her detachedness, all of her inexperience and steeled herself over into someone well beyond her years. One look towards Kiyoko was all that was needed as the manager grabbed what water and towels she could under her arms, acting on unspoken orders.

"As a trainer, noticing everything is top priority," Apollonia mumbled. It was not quite directed towards Ukai, though he couldn't imagine it was for anyone else. The end of her nose twitched as her eyes swept Tsukishima clutching his shoulder. "Supervision is fine."

Satisfied with her answer, Ukai's mouth twitched into a small grin as he gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder, not realizing that it came off as a push.

Needing no further prompt, Apollonia rose to her feet and slung her medical bag over her shoulder, jacket fluttering as she made her rounds. She met them with gentle hands, each boy straightening up and puffing out their feathers as she looked them over. Some marveled over their, 'battle scars,' while others meekly thanked her for the attention. Tanaka and Nishinoya flexed through their sweat and dirt-soiled shirts, telling the first years to, _'man up_,' while gaudy pink plasters were applied to their faces and shins. Yamaguchi was quickly ushered inside and given moleskin for the blisters on his feet and medicine for his nausea, Asahi included. Sugawara teased that she was like a mother hen to them while Daichi exclaimed that she didn't need to make a fuss about a couple scratches. But Apollonia's expression didn't change: she treated bruises like broken bones, and was quick to fix them regardless of quantity.

With unuttered poise, she made her intentions clear: she wasn't looking for praise or admiration, nor did she seek a title or throne. Her place on the court meant nothing to her, just as long as she could maintain theirs.

* * *

_Karasuno Club Facilities_

* * *

About half an hour before practice was estimated to end, Kiyoko and Apollonia were sent off to prepare dinner with Takeda not too far behind once he ensured the gym was properly cleaned and closed.

Unfortunately, Kiyoko quickly learned that giving her Apollonia to work with on dinner might have been counterproductive. Takeda would have been a more sensible choice, even though he sheepishly confessed that some of his dishes tended to be too oily. That was fine, Kiyoko could handle oily, but having a foreigner help her cook traditional Japanese cuisine was a challenge well beyond her imagination.

Apparently, the most significant meal Apollonia ever made was some sort of obscure sounding Finnish mushroom soup. Soo-pe-lo-vah-something or other. But as far as Eastern dishes, Apollonia had mentioned that Finland was not without international restaurants and specialty stores, but it wasn't exactly second nature to her; cooking rice and chopping vegetables was all that she was good for, truthfully. Living by herself gave Apollonia quite a bland palate lacking the sort of variety that traditional Japanese cooking had. '_A Bachelor's Diet_,' Kiyoko jokingly mentioned, though Apollonia was lost to the humor of it.

Once the boys filed in filled their plates and took their seats, Kiyoko wordlessly nodded her head towards the table, grabbing bowls for the both of them. But she immediately realized by Apollonia's sudden need to clean dishes and study that eating and drinking with so many people made the foreigner _very_ uncomfortable—so much so that Kiyoko physically had to untie Apollonia's apron and shove her into an extra chair just to get her to comply. The entire dinner, she was stiff and had a near white-knuckled grip on her hashi, eyes glued down on her scarcely filled plate unless someone was speaking to her. It wasn't abnormal behavior, but Kiyoko thought that she'd loosen up even just a little bit around her teammates during dinner. But she didn't realize just how wrong her theory was.

Mountains upon mountains of food around her and the most she took was an extra half-bowl of unadorned rice that she just barely finished. But it took Kiyoko's initiative to actually fill her bowl, seeing as Apollonia was as about as mobile as a statue herself. Sugawara occasionally looked up from his food at Kiyoko to see if she had any explanation to why their resident medic looked like she'd fall out of her chair if anyone so much as touched her. He received a dismissive shrug from their Manager. '_I'll tell you later._'

According to Kiyoko, Apollonia was intensely self-conscious about the size of her appetite. It was pitifully small and knowing all of the hard work Kiyoko and Takeda put into their food, she didn't want to offend the Japanese culture by not eating everything they provided her with. With bottomless pits like Nishinoya and Hinata within range, it wasn't as if her insecurities were entirely unjustified. Even Asahi confessed that he felt scrawny eating only two bowls of rice by the time the Libero had downed four. Apollonia was more enthusiastic about picking office supplies than she was eating food. She didn't do spicy, or sweet, or salty, or savory. If anything Apollonia could live off of cardboard protein drinks and vitamins if she weren't so obsessed with the cost. Because of her eating habits, she weighed herself weekly to ensure that she kept a healthy ratio of muscle and fat. But skipping meals and pouring herself back into her schoolwork caught up to her: within the course of a few weeks she had managed to shed every kilogram she put on.

As endearing as it was that someone as tall as Apollonia had an unexpectedly modest appetite, it was still unsettling that she could lose nearly five kilograms as easily as Kiyoko had described. Since she was so tall, her weight never appeared to fluctuate—really only Nishinoya was able to distinguish, 'Beanpole-Apollonia,' from, 'Cut-Apollonia.' Kiyoko wryly joked that the five kilograms must have been in her toes or her hair before she cut it.

When Takeda finished dishes and was out of earshot, Kiyoko also let is slip that Ukai was taking Apollonia out of practices completely, despite the anticipated build up that she'd be back and stronger than ever. It seemed kind of wasteful when he thought about it. All of the weight she packed on melted off quicker than butter, and her spot they had reserved for her on the court was snatched from her hands. It was as if she went through all of the illnesses and mental turmoil for nothing. Her reward for trying to fit in with their team and match their athleticism were perpetually screwed up joints and a kick to the curb.

Apollonia knew that it was irresponsible to be using their training time so frivolously by having herself being included, but her training was all that she had to offer at one point in time. After it became apparent that she was too weak to train them, she was tried coaching them, and when she proved incapable of coaching responsibilities, she settled for medicating them. In the time being she had simultaneously worked to make herself stronger in high hopes that maybe—just _maybe_—she could try and redeem herself: as a playing partner, a leader, and a trainer. All of that mixed with her need to fit in culturally, keep her grades high to keep her trainer's spot, and to take impossibly detailed notes was enough to break any normal person. No matter how high they held her, even Apollonia must have been haunted by her own limitations.

What was unsettling was that she was so incredibly skilled at hiding it.

* * *

_22:30_

* * *

_Knock, Knock._

"Hey, are you busy?" Sugawara poked his head through Apollonia's doorway, figuring that it wouldn't hurt just to check up on her after the first years came back from their baths.

Instead of a response, Sugawara was met with a ruffling of pages and a quiet exhale. The room she was given appeared barren save for the library cluttering her mat: clinical anatomy textbooks, literary novels with nondescript covers, a pocket journal of Japanese culture stained with blue highlighter. Her cheek was propped on her fist, elbow balanced on her thigh, eyes cemented on every open page.

There was something very intimate about the setting, making him feel dirty and common in comparison, even with the aroma of soap and medicinal oils still pungent on his skin. Each breath she took was deep while every exhale spent was even, eyes lidded in fatigue but bright with interest. She pulled at the longer threads of hair she had not cut evenly, and seemed to think that if she twirled them enough then they'd shrink to match the rest. It was as if he didn't exist at all, and he felt voyeuristic for just standing there.

Cracking his toes against the tatami, he padded over to her side, almost looming over her with his hand on his hips. Picking at what was left of the screen printed shrimp on his shirt, he sat down and cleared his throat, then again a little louder when she didn't respond. He even flipped open one of her books she had beside her, hoping the close proximity would catch even a glimmer of her attention.

It didn't.

Sugawara had to hand it to Apollonia: either she was _really_ good at tuning others out, or else she just had zero desire to acknowledge him a had no qualms about showing it.

The muscles in her brow and temple were pulled taut to show that she was intensely focused so he assumed it was the former, but her face wore conflicting shades of red and green, evidence that she was possibly feverish. The glazed look building in her eyes and the unmistakable heat radiating off her was enough to warn of her exhaustion. Sugawara frowned that she took her studies to such extremes, to the point that she was actually capable of making herself physically ill. Seeing as she would likely wake up sick the next morning if left to her own descretion, he took the liberty to aid her by searching her bags for fever patches. When he was able to locate a stack, he peeled a strip and slid it against her forehead, effectively breaking her trance. Calm eyes suddenly became cold, raking him over for daring to show up in her room unannounced, without warning and without reservation. While she was _reading_ no less.

"When did you get here?"

Sugawara feigned offense, but couldn't hide his mirth at the sight of Apollonia's too-serious exterior juxtaposed with fluffy clouds and cartoon hearts on her forehead. "I just wanted to ask if you were doing alright, that's all. You look like you're half a degree from having a fever."

"I don't have a fever."

"Oh yeah," he challenged, "I beg to differ."

With the knowledge that Apollonia usually prefers to have the last word in conversations where she is proven gloriously wrong, Sugawara was a little surprised to find that she kept her mouth shut and just went back to her book. Eyes scanning the pages, but not really reading. It almost made Sugawara think twice about probing her for answers about her behavior, but his curiosity and concern for her well-being overpowered his hesitation.

"Are you thinking about coach cutting you from practices? It's alright if you're a little upset. You've been working hard after all."

She didn't even pick her head up to answer him, and Sugawara wasn't sure if he was more perturbed by the immediacy of her answer, or the sincerity of it.

"No. I do not love volleyball like all of you," she stated plainly, "I can't say that I even like it. But, you all feel something different when you play, so I will do my best to preserve that even though I don't understand it. If that means taking me out of a role that was only created to accommodate me in the first place, then it must be done."

Sugawara almost didn't know what to say. As well-read as he tried to be with her culture, he still wasn't accustomed to women speaking so frankly. She spoke with such depth and honesty people often overlooked, that he almost believed her.

"Ha," he sighed cautiously, "You make it sound like you're never going to play again."

"Ukai-san mentioned that I'd supervise extra practices."

A smile instinctually stretched across his face. "That sounds great. Daichi and I were going to come up with strategies after morning practice tomorrow. You think you'd want to help us out?"

Apollonia pursed her lips thoughtfully, and Sugawara could almost hear the gears in her brain warming up again when she made a face he knew her to have during their Japanese Literature course.

"You should ask Ennoshita. It would benefit him to sit in on these processes."

"Processes...?"

"He _was_ the one you and Daichi were considering, wasn't he?"

Sugawara almost smacked his forehead in realization. "Ahhh, I get what you're saying now! Right, right I'll let Daichi know." He leaned over his knees and propped one fist under his chin and the cheeky expression that sat upon it. "You can be pretty sneaky when you want, can't you?"

"I'm not being sneaky, I'm being direct."

Sugawara flipped up his hands in mock surrender. "I forgot, Finns mean what they say, don't they?"

Apollonia's nose scrunched with puzzlement. "Of course."

Despite knowing that he'd receive such a blunt reply, Sugawara couldn't help the chuckle that rose past his chest. "And here I thought I was just going to have to come in here and reassure you that your place at center court wouldn't be filled, even though you are being taken out of practices," he admitted scratching his cheek.

"I have little desire for something that was not mine in the first place. It is common sense that I will not participate in tournaments, so I should not participate in practices."

Sugawara rolled his eyes. "You don't have to sound so negative about it."

Apollonia didn't seem affected by his statement. "I'm being pragmatic," she defended. Grabbing her bag that was shamelessly rooted through, Apollonia pulled out a bottle of pills and a few strips of moleskin.

"Give these to Yamaguchi for his blisters. Asahi and Kinoshita too. They wear their socks too low. If Hinata gets an upset stomach, these should take care of it."

Even though she was just shy of a fever and in the middle of studying, somehow Apollonia felt that Hinata's irritable bowels were of greater importance. Amazing.

"And do you have some sport's bars in there for Kageyama if he gets hungry," Sugawara asked, voice brimming with amusement. However, the prudent expression that crossed Apollonia's face led him to believe that she probably had an entire _box_ just for the younger setter. When she made a move to possibly pull out said box, Sugawara quickly waved his hands in refusal. _'I was joking!'_

"I'll take the supplies to them as long as you get an early night tonight. I'm sure the rest of," he flipped one of her open books to the cover, "'Anatomy and Physiology Fifth Edition,' can wait until tomorrow."

Miraculously, Apollonia complied, though not before handing him more supplies to take back. Sugawara had to stop her when she tried to pawn off one of the many pillows she had in her room, but did not need, teasing her that he could barely carry what she already gave him much less an entire futon. To his confusion and horror, she pulled out a humorously large wad of plastic bags from her apparently bottomless carrier and handed him one. _'Another Finnish thing,'_ he guessed.

"You should get the first years acquainted with your offense signals," she mentioned offhandedly once they reached her threshold. "The structure will help them."

"Good point. Were you planning on teaching any of the underclassmen what you know? Like wrapping fingers or sports massages?"

"Right now they should focus on receives."

"Hinata's receiving more with his arms rather than his face, so there's that," Sugawara snickered. Apollonia eyes fluttered tiredly as she let out one long, exhausted breath. That child and his recklessness would be the one of the many things that would lead to her early death. And the fact that Sugawara and the rest were more amused than alarmed by it really didn't help her any.

"Although, I jammed my fingers at least thirty times trying to figure out how to hit without needing a set, so I guess I can't say anything," she mumbled, "In retrospect, hitting the ball as hard as I could against a concrete wall at close range wasn't a good idea."

It took a moment for Sugawara to register that Apollonia had actually shared a bit of personal information with him by her own will. Once it sunk it he was consumed with the shock that she'd try something so careless, the horror that she had jammed her fingers that much, and the strange warmth spreading through his stomach that she had become so casual with him. His mouth opened an closed a few times before it curled into a grin.

"Did you really do that?"

Apollonia nodded. "I was a very innovative twelve-year old. A very stupid one as well."

"Well, you come a long way, that's for sure. Finland must be a wild place."

Apollonia didn't respond. The tip of her nose twitched in a way Sugawara was familiar with: subtle and rabbit-like, endearing but cautious. She wasn't upset with him, rather she was taking the time to decide whether or not she _should_ be upset with him.

"... I've worked years just to be on par with people like you. Finland has little to do with it."

"What, Japanese people?"

"No," she said in a clipped tone, "It doesn't have to do with country. Just people like all of you." Her face went blank as she tried to search for the proper word for it, growing disgruntled when she couldn't. She tousled her hair with fidgety hands while sleepless eyes swiped the pores in the tatami, dwelling on something honestly unimportant. If she weren't nearly two meters tall with a tattoo, she might have looked like the teenager she was supposed to be. Young, distraught, and oddly normal.

"Well, just be sure to get an early night," Sugawara hummed as he gracefully stepped back into the hallway. He smacked her hand away from her forehead when she tried to peel the patch off, gifting her the most saccharine smile when she raised her brow at him. "You might not get to play center stage like we will, but I think we can bring you awfully close. You're one of us too, after all."

The door closed as Sugawara took his leave bidding her, _'goodnight,'_ his footsteps soft as Apollonia listened to them fade down the hallway. Until she was sure they had disappeared completely.

* * *

_22:45_

* * *

Tsukishima mindlessly swiped the screen of his phone, only half-heartedly playing the RPG app Yamaguchi had sworn was entertaining. The trills and pings signaled points gained, paired with a harmonic melody after each level up as he walked towards the vending machines. Unfortunately it didn't help muffle Hinata and Kageyama's bickering: eloquent exchanges of whether seedless watermelon grew from seedless vines, or were just glued back together by produce harvesters after the seeds were taken out.

Sharing a room with his teammates was almost as exhausting as playing volleyball with them, so Tsukishima took the liberty to remove himself from a place so noisy. But even when he was halfway down a hallway on the other side of the building he could _still_ hear them. Their Libero still hadn't forgiven Hinata for mistaking him for a child after seeing him with his hair down, and forced Hinata to bow at his elder's feet while promising him a month's allowance of Gari Gari-kuns. _Loudly_.

He shut off his phone and stuffed it in his jersey, yawning as he adjusted his eyes to the fluorescent lightning in front of the vending machine. It registered that he didn't even have money for a drink only after he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pitiful wad of lint. The machine gave a loud mocking shudder, a, _'clink,'_ and, _'clang,'_ shortly after.

"Did you need something, Tsukishima?" Sugawara asked, miraculously appearing at his side, plastic bag of medical trinkets in his hand. "A drink? Snack?"

Suddenly stiff, Tsukishima rubbed his palms together, eyes flitting back to the rows of juice and drinkable yoghurt just beyond his reach. "N... Uh, yeah... I guess."

Sugawara's mouth tilted, he dug into his sweats for the spare coins he kept but never needed. "It's loud in there, I bet." Tsukishima instinctively rolled his eyes, and scratched his wrist as the setter stuck a few coins in the vending machine, gesturing for him to choose what he wanted. When his drink dropped into the holder, he fished it out, ignoring the peculiar knot in his back and itching feeling on his neck. When he stood he tried to brush off his discomfort, though it came off rigid like rusted gears trying to grate the chain that held them. To his dismay, Sugawara was very much aware of his movements.

"I don't want to sound like I'm ragging on you, but you should really get Apollonia to look at your shoulder."

Tsukishima's two-finger grip on the straw tightened as he brought it to his lips. "... Hn?" When he turned to glance at Sugawara, the setter was sweeping him from head to toe, a disapproving frown tugging his lips down. Though as they locked eyes, he beamed.

"Trust me, it'll benefit you in the long run. There's no needles or anything." He tossed the plastic back over his shoulder in such a casual way, Tsukishima was unsure if they were even having a genuine conversation or if he was actually part of an after school special. "All she does is ask a lot of questions. I know it might be weird since she's a girl, but—"

The words ran quicker than Tsukishima could process them. "—But, aren't we sort of like her experiments?"

Sugawara's ears perked. "Experi... Heh?"

The realization that he had both interrupted one of his superiors and insulted the other hit Tsukishima like a cold bath, but it didn't slow his train of thought. Unlike his fellow first years, he wasn't eager to share his feelings or opinions with everyone he spoke to, but he would be honest when prompted.

"Is a student really qualified to be put in charge of this sort of thing? Like... our health, I mean? She's no more educated than we are."

To his surprise—and relief—Sugawara didn't look all that affected by his pragmatism; for a second he even appeared to validate it. But he began to laugh, making Tsukishima feel absolutely stupid for saying anything at all.

"Apollonia's been studying these things before she even came to Japan, if anything _she_ was her _own_ experiment."

Considering that Apollonia had a list of problems as long as her own body, Tsukishima couldn't tell whether Sugawara was complimenting her or proving his own theory.

"If you're so skeptical, you could always ask to see her credentials. She usually carries them around in her bag. C.P.R. certificate, Emergency Aid card, test scores, things like that."

The vending machine made another sputtering sound when Tsukishima didn't respond, a rattling laugh that the tables had been turned on him.

"No one's forcing you to get checked up, but you _are_ looking a little tired. Apollonia knows what she's doing. And she does care: she wouldn't put you in harm's way just for a grade."

He smiled again, wholeheartedly. The skin around his eyes crinkled and lifted the beauty mark on his cheek, almost as if he were as light as the air itself, making Tsukishima feel weighted down in comparison. After turning back around to the vending machine once Sugawara clapped his hand on his back and all but sauntered out of sight, he noted just_ how_ tired he looked, especially after conversing with someone as refreshing as Sugawara. Under-eye circles, pale skin, a drawn expression that ran deeper than the apathetic shell he wore. He wasn't usually this weary unless he pulled an all-fighter with Yamaguchi after buying a new game.

To an extent, he _did_ try to at least fix it himself. Whatever children's aspirin they had in the house he took, and whatever stretches he knew from club he did, but still no relief. Sleeping became a chore, even after exhausting his, 'Nightcore,' playlists and taking the weird herbal pills Yamaguchi saw in a women's magazine.

Being dubbed the token, 'dry-witted asshole,' of the group, Tsukishima could get away with passing his soreness off as laziness. But in a weird, unsettling way, he felt like Apollonia could see straight through that, like how Akiteru always knew when he was lying about boy scout's meetings. She bore through him with such intensity when she watched not just him, but all of them: not even the hostile glares or verbal threats he had instigated from his bullies compared to all that she could say with one sideways glance. If everyone from her country had similar eyes, then it was no wonder why the North was always so cold. She was a walking winter dystopia.

Apollonia in general just struck odd to Tsukishima: not solely because she is a foreigner, but because her entire existence seems like one impossible paradox. She comes off as an aloof individual, when it is the opposite that is true. Detached staring hides constant scrutiny. A slow, smooth stride hides restless, knowing hands. She never bats an eye when Hinata yelps in pain after a hard hit to the face, yet she pampers him like he was her own flesh and blood once she is given permission to inspect him. Her outwards appearance exudes absolute superiority, yet she abides by Ukai's command with a submissive nod and quiet, '_Okay_.'

Tsukishima squinted at his own muddy colored eyes, almost brown when seen through the vending machine. She's a being that should not exist: she is too feminine to be masculine, too masculine to be feminine, she is dispirited yet driven, cold yet nurturing, completely grey yet anything but. Her conflicting traits are what irritate Tsukishima, because he cannot put her in a tidy little box like he can with the others. In the back of his mind he wondered why the school hadn't swarmed her by now, seeing as she was, 'exotic,' by their standards—but after taking the time to observe her, it became clear that her intimidating aura heavily outweighed her mystique. People made a great effort not to step on her toes, even though she wouldn't so much as blink if they had. They were commoners. Commoners stood down before kings, and kings stood down before Gods. And the laurels donned by Apollonia made it explicitly clear that she was far more than a mere king.

His own reflection told the story of a thin, underfed field worker who could spit on the shoes of nobles and not care about the consequences. But wit alone did not make him a man of importance, only a shallow background character.

One last lingering stare at his young sunken face in the glass before he turned back around, not before nearly suffering a heart attack at the spot of white that suddenly clouded his peripheral. _'Tree-san?'_ He wanted to ask, but didn't, fearing the name to be in bad taste when they were alone. So he kept quiet, though he could assume that she wasn't looking for a greeting. She took him in with eyes so cold they might have been warm, wearing an expression so sharp it might have been soft, and body language that was anything but legible.

The knot in his shoulder spread all over his back and coiled like a fiery snake under his skin, as if just meeting her eye level were a curse. He made no motions to ask why she was out of her room, or why she looked at him the way she did. On some level, he probably already knew. When she tilted her head up at him, Tsukishima turned a slight angle towards her.

Realistically he knew that Apollonia was not, nor would ever be, a God. But still, he interlaced his hands and bowed his head before her, voice abhorrently small as he spoke.

"Uh... Manner-san...?"

She perked oddly at his address, eyebrow cocked in a way that should have looked arrogant, though Tsukishima somehow felt that it wasn't. Apollonia didn't press him to say anymore, as he didn't need to. She just held her hand up as a motion of silence before letting it settle at her side, making her way wordlessly down the hall towards her room.

And like a commoner, he followed.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

**Fun Facts:**

_The beginning quote is basically the start/ end of the Hippocratic Oath: you swear by Apollo the God of Healing and his children that you will abide by a list of rules and obligations being in the medical field, or else suffer death. It is an oath that physical trainers must accept when they take on their role (most are modernized and are not as long or as threatening as the original oath, though.)_

_*The soup that Kiyoko/Apollonia are referring to is __suppilovahverokeitto, which is a fennel chanterelle soup in Finland._

_So a lot of good stuff got cut out due to editing - Sugawara was going to find Apple's tampons, Hinata was going to buy the girls soymilk for after their baths, and Ennoshita was going to bond with Tsukishima over a game. I was thinking about just typing them up as side drabbles and posting them on Tumblr, but anyway. _

_Sorry for such a long absence - school on top of work on top of my computer crashing made for terrible writing conditions. __But thank you for all those who have reviewed, favorite, followed, and everyone who are still reading! _


	23. My Own

_**Disclaimer**_: Haikyuu! belongs entirely to Haruichi Furudate, I only own the OC character, nothing else.

**_This fic follows the manga, so if you do not want spoilers past the anime episodes, read with caution!_**

* * *

**_Chapter 23: My Own _**

* * *

When he was ten, Sugawara was told that boys his age only fantasized about video games and playing battle warrior in parks.

When he was thirteen, Sugawara was told that boys his age only fantasized about growing older, getting bigger, and relishing in their deeper voices.

Now that he is seventeen, all Sugawara hears is that boys his age only fantasize about getting girlfriends or getting laid, and there isn't a filthy thing imaginable that has not crossed their mind.

Yet in the light of day, ordinary as any other, Sugawara finds that he bore a fantasy unlike the ones that adults and shamed mothers might have given him. It's a domestic fantasy, one he never knew he wanted, and Sugawara is almost embarrassed to realize that it was not skin or anatomy that had his heart racing just minutes after waking up. Charming and pleasant; not to be longed for, because it cannot be sought. But there is never anything else like it once it has been experienced.

It was odd, but there was something undoubtedly comfortable about it.

Shuffling slippers, soft whispers and tired yawns, the whirring of coffee machines and clanking of dishware. The smell of familiar foods that he may never tire of, no matter how much he takes his fill. Even the light drew him in, whether it was filtered through linen or glass, bouncing off bodies or countertops, strong, bold, gentle or faint. It was not loud nor bustling when he entered the dining hall, save for Nishinoya sliding along the kitchen floor. But songs of pans clanking and timers beeping and chairs scraping did make for the most peculiar melody. One of hesitance and inexperience, a cautious and shy orchestra that Sugawara was instantly enamored by.

Apollonia fumbled with the dishes and pans in her early-morning stupor, small stovetop burns already decorating her hands. Kiyoko had to wake her every so often by tapping a coffee spoon against her nose just to get her to watch the stovetop, lest they burn what little breakfast they prepared. Takeda set the table, looking unusually enthusiastic for a rather unimpressive meal.

"Don't eat all of it, Kageyama and Hinata will be back soon," he heard Daichi scold, and thought, _'How typical, so typically Daichi.'_

He loved it.

Though the club facilities were familiar, never did it really feel like home, but there was a sense of brotherhood, however: with Daichi looking fatherly and masculine in an old tank top, Asahi rubbing the hair on his chin and grunting like an old grandpa, Nishinoya and Tanaka high fiving each other after belching while the rest of the second years and first years ate in an unusually well-behaved manner in order to balance the chaos.

As strange as it was, it was this group that he felt well mixed in with, though he was the one who stood at a distance; like the eldest brother that had the privilege to look on with contented nostalgia while they went on existing. Unaware of how warm the hearth around them was. Unaware of how sweet simplicity tasted, even in a cup of bitter, foreign coffee.

Sugawara's face flushed once he came to, though the novel glow that covered everything did not dim. Orange, pink, and pretty, everyone still a bit groggy but bathed in a youthfulness that Sugawara almost felt detached from until Daichi waved him over, acknowledging that he too was part of the glow. He took his seat in the same creaking chair and ate his meal with a delicate flutter in his belly: not one of nausea, but of happiness. A rather stupid happiness so simple and pure that no one could possibly be taken by it. But, he was.

Yet there was a single breath that sat in the back of Sugawara's throat, stuck though he could not place the feeling nor rid of it if he had. He firs thought it when he took his seat beside Daichi, when Kiyoko set his plate before him, and once more as he looked up to see Apollonia trying to clean the old coffee stains out of a mug even when Takeda assured her it was not necessary. Sugawara wrote it off as nothing; just pre-run adrenaline or something just as small.

But he found that even as he stood and took a deep inhale to calm himself, the single breath remained—as if he were anticipating something he could not see nor even imagine. It clung to him—to his chest, his throat, his belly—during their run and long afterwards. It was a feeling of breathlessness in such a blurry way that was not exciting, though not frightening either. Just disorienting, making him feel lost on the trails with one inhale left on his watch.

And he couldn't help but dread the moment when he would finally exhale.

* * *

_Practice_

During the break Sugawara had stepped out for fresh air, feeling as though what little food he had for breakfast he would surely see again if he didn't remove himself soon. Behind him, he could hear the yelps from Hinata and Yamaguchi as Apollonia dabbed their hands with antiseptic, seeing as they were rubbed raw from their penance. Every so often Tsukishima would snort and mutter, instigating an uproar from Hinata. But, it didn't take more than one word from Apollonia to quell them both.

He instinctively pressed down on his collar as he felt acid rise up from his stomach at the sound of Apollonia's voice, letting pass an anticlimactic burp with a sour aftertaste. It was unsatisfying, and the unsettling feeling encompassing him didn't give. Had it been Daichi with this problem, Sugawara would have just told him he needs a good punch in the gut, and would have supplied it too. Daichi stood far beyond him running his head under the faucets and likely wouldn't have complied if Sugawara asked him for a complimentary cheap shot. He noted the water stain on his seat as he bent over, keeping reference to tease him for it later.

He forced out half a huff, the rest mangling into a shrill and ugly yelp when a cold shock had momentarily blinded him. He turned around and saw Apollonia with his water bottle and a clean towel held with a startled grip.

"I'm sorry, Kiyoko asked me to do that."

"No, no," Sugawara stammered, "It's okay."

Unconvinced, Apollonia placed the bottle against her own neck, and left a blister on her skin that would have caused a permanent chill had the weather not been so hot.

"I don't get it." She rubbed the welt, only making the red angrier in appearance.

The tension in Sugawara's neck wrapped its arms around his chest in an embrace that was all too tight, made no better when Apollonia met his eye and reminded him why so many people shirked eye contact with her. Sugawara jolted in epiphany.

"I'm sorry," he exclaimed suddenly, "I took advantage of you."

The frown Apollonia made didn't clarify whether she was apt or ignorant, but Sugawara held her too high to ever think she didn't already know. Self-consciousness was always an ugly color that he felt unsuited for, but the clash of Apollonia's inherent naivety and perpetual scrutiny had him wearing it like a second skin.

"Last year," he tried to sound casual, "I really should have used, '-san,' but I thought I could take my liberties since you're foreign."

"But, I don't like those additives," Apollonia deadpanned. Seeing as the other third years had no qualms about calling her by her first name, she didn't see why Sugawara would feel so guilty for it.

"I know, I know, but it was... It just really means a lot in our culture and I took advantage by acting like it didn't."

He couldn't tell what she was thinking when she shrugged, as though she was neither confirming nor denying her knowledge of his intentions.

Sugawara was surprised to find it suddenly annoying.

"Do you think I'm dishonest?"

Apollonia almost looked intrigued to be asked such a question, likely because she already saw past the subtext. She crinkled her nose, appearing almost repulsed at herself before she even spoke.

"No."

"Your face doesn't match your words at all!"

Her ugly scowl gradually faded for something akin to contemplation—it was a look that sent an unexpected shiver down Sugawara's spine, as if she knew he was avoiding speaking openly with her and knew exactly what he wanted to say before he could even think it. Sugawara forced a loud, nervous laugh. "I guess it really is no big deal then!"

The air shifted once Daichi passed in between them. Sugawara left him with a surprise smack against his hip when he came through, taking in the hilarity of Daichi's face when he did it, only to turn back and see Apollonia raking him over the coals.

He confused her, with that airiness he was so known for. Sugawara had a duality to him in that he could and yet could not, would do and yet do not, would be and yet be not. He contradicted himself, for a reason that likely only he knew, with an answer that likely only he could supply. And to a certain extent, Apollonia understood. But this sort of behavior was uncharted waters, and Apollonia felt abandoned not knowing what she was supposed to say. She didn't like _not_ knowing. She _never_ liked not knowing.

Sugawara played with the bit of hair at his crown to smooth it straight, but to no avail. He couldn't help but stare as Apollonia stared back; and he watched as her mouth opened and closed multiple times, her thoughts in battle with her words, and her words in battle with her tongues. He watched as she puffed up with resolve, eyes glittering with confidence.

"I didn't learn how to shave until I went to America."

And then he watched her crash and burn.

Whatever cocktail of emotions Sugawara was feeling before had immediately been replaced with disbelief. Of all the things he expected to hear from her, _that_ wasn't one of them. In a matter of seconds his eyes grew as large as saucers, and Apollonia—as dense as she was—at least seemed to catch on to her own words and flushed scarlet.

"I—uh, I mean—"

"No, no," Sugawara assured again, trying to hold back laughter, tears, and a look of confusion so deep he might have gone cross-eyed from it. "That's uh… unfortunate? That must have been an experience. I tricked Daichi into shaving his calves once, during first year," Sugawara mentioned with a wink. "I told him the knee pads wouldn't chafe as bad."

"_That's_ dishonest."

"It was kind of mean," Sugawara admitted, albeit half-heartedly. "So, you taught yourself?"

Apollonia only grumbled, feeling incredibly improper. Her response was reluctant, but eventually Apollonia nodded, eyes firmly rooted to her feet despite her nose and clenched jaw jutted forwards. Instead of embarrassing herself any further, she spoke of other things. Though somehow, they did not feel as significant as the first, but they felt easier to hear.

Sugawara was surprised to learn that Kalajoki was not a bustling metropolis he assumed it to be, like Tokyo. Rather, Kalajoki was small, and more rural than Miyagi if possible. A place that had annual tractor races, that thrived on tourism and farming. Apollonia mentioned that she was brought up modestly, or what he assumed was modestly judging by the description of her old house and the small neighborhood she grew up in.

Funny, Sugawara thought Apollonia to be a child of grand wealth living in a fashionable city meeting expensive people with expensive clothes speaking expensive words. Always neon or day-glow, with an undertone of decadence and snobbish culture. But somehow, it made better sense that she wasn't.

"Have your host parents ever taken you to a shrine?" When Apollonia didn't answer, Sugawara took the liberty to explain. "You know, like the ones with the statues, you seeing people praying at them, giving offerings? I can take you to one, I know a few close by unless you want to go into the city."

"I know what they are," Apollonia clarified, sight zeroing in on another matter, "But I do not have host parents."

"... You don't."

It was then that Sugawara found that you didn't need a fist to feel the impact of a punch, nor a pretty face to find your knees growing weak. What this was felt so ugly in comparison, so blinding and painful, like getting a headache after sitting too long in the sun and then realizing you've lost half your skin.

"I live alone," Apollonia repeated only once, though Sugawara felt it said over again and again and again, between every space and every letter, committing itself to memory until he felt winded by the experience though it last only seconds, the exchange itself barely minutes.

He didn't have time to so much as gawk at her as Ukai hollered from the benches, ordering everyone inside. She walked with the same gait at the same pace with the same leisurely swing of her arms. She was the same as she ever was: mind, body and presence, but now Sugawara couldn't help but question even the smallest of details as they all came to light in the most unattractive way. The pink and the orange decaying to something de-saturated and rotten.

The final breath stuck deep within his throat had been expended, and the inhale that he took that was supposed to fill his chest with faux leather and gym floors, medicinal spray and Kiyoko's perfume, distant trees and even more distant car emissions with life and with clarify, was now regrettably replaced with little more than bile, and anger.

* * *

He was going to let it go, and he was going to ignore it. Sugawara had his mind made up before Apollonia had even finished walking away from him. He would swallow his feelings, and move on.

And yet, Sugawara could not even stand the notion of being angry at all. He was supposed to be angry at girls who cheat, who lie, who bully other girls or boys, and have black hearts and impure intentions; and as far as he knew, Apollonia was not at fault for any of those things.

But, then again, he didn't know anything at all looking back at it. He didn't know more than her country of origin and the color of her eyes, if he wanted to be honest with himself. He didn't know that all of the hours he spent acclimating Apollonia to his country would be wasted. Because, if it truly meant anything, if he acted out of honesty and sincerity, then wouldn't she have given him the same?

Sugawara decided it didn't matter.

As bitter as it tasted, Sugawara knew she had the right to be closed off. But, he couldn't help but wonder Apollonia's prior relationships, what with having off-color personality like she did—whether it be her ethnicity or just the luck of the draw, character-wise. He didn't know anymore if secrecy was just a trait among the Finnish, or just an ugly side of Apollonia he hadn't noticed before. He didn't know, and it made him sick to even think that he was just a means to an end, or if Apollonia was really so incapable of sustaining relationships that it was only natural for her to treat people as tools. It made him sick to think that the traits he once liked about Apollonia now repulsed him.

Had he known his feelings at the time, maybe he would have agreed with Tsukishima; they were just pawns for her medical career, they were just a case study. But the other side yanked him back, thinking that the Apollonia he knew would _never_ do such a thing.

But it was then that Sugawara realized it was not, 'the Apollonia he knew,' but rather, 'the Apollonia he created.' The charmingly awkward, delightfully intellectual, do-gooding gaijin from the north; an almost perfect mix of talent, skill, and flaws. And Sugawara knew now that he was just as much as fault as she for concocting such a dishonest human being—if, 'his Apollonia,' were even human at all.

And he was angry for it. But more so, he was upset to realize that after high school, Apollonia might not even remember so much as his name, and then the cycle would start again.

When Apollonia was just beginning to acquaint herself to the previous team during her second year, Kiyoko—who had made nary a sound since becoming manager—made an off-color remark that stuck with Sugawara, always present in the back of his mind.

_"If there is a word between pretty and handsome, it is Apollonia."_

He laughed it off and was more surprised at how cute Kiyoko's voice was when she spoke so casually, not knowing how true her statement was. To him, at least.

Apollonia wasn't pretty the way Kiyoko was pretty, nor was she handsome the way Daichi was handsome. She sat somewhere on a spectrum he could not see, but desperately wanted to as time went on. She was peculiar in face and form, and by no means would have been deemed as conventionally attractive in their society save for the color of her skin. While he could clearly see the visuals that did not appeal to him, he found that he could blur those traits until they were little more than an invisible finger tapping on the protective fishbowl that surrounded him.

And he knew it, he was conscious of it, but before Sugawara could fully control it, everything had become rose. Rose-colored, rose-scented, rose petal-soft and delicate in a way that specifically _he_ adored. Sugawara had a tendency to allow himself to romanticize things like Kiyoko's good etiquette to one of wifeliness, or Daichi's common valor to something just short of gallantry. He adored these people, and before he knew it, he had begun to adore her as well.

It disturbed him how the exact things he came to adore now repulsed him.

He was reminded of many stories he grew up reading, ones with spirits who took the form of humans or animals and came through towns. Spirits that would either wreak havoc or bring blessings in bold and subtle ways, touching only those who would share their legend. And he thought of Apollonia. And a small part of him wished that she had been a third type of spirit—one who brought nothing at all—because it frustrated him to think that all she brought and all she took didn't mean more than words in a book. Words that no one would believe. It wasn't worth the mental anguish.

And Sugawara decided at that point, that it _did_ matter.

After dinner, and after confronting Ukai, fate was in favor of Sugawara. Sliding open the back door, Apollonia reentered and changed her slippers—and any other day, Sugawara would have told her that wearing an old California raglan and running shorts was not enough to keep her warm. She was checking her phone and had a large university textbook under one arm when Sugawara strode towards her.

Apollonia acknowledged Sugawara without looking up from her phone, but was not returned with Sugawara's usual antics to garner her attention. There was no hand covering her screen, no flick on the nose, no airy laugh or mention of her name. Realizing that she would not be given her usual heckling, Apollonia finally looked up, interest piqued.

But she found something unpleasant staring back at her, an awful mix of bitterness negativity that she could physically taste on her tongue, like copper coins and blood. Sugawara had his head angled up at her, trying not to show everything despite being completely transparent. But whatever his eyes begged to say, his mouth wouldn't follow—couldn't follow. It would have been a lie to say that all of his building woes had vanished, instead he was just too tired to even say anything at all. He felt so childish to have even tried confronting her, because now he stood before her, glaring at her without the courage to even speak.

So, Apollonia spoke for him.

"You are upset." Her eyes narrowed, as if mirroring Sugawara's expression. And Sugawara knew he wouldn't be able to evade his own transparency.

"Sort of."

His eyes swept downwards to see Apollonia take a step back. Her heels extended past the backs of the slippers given to her, and her toe box looked entirely too wide to fit the generic diamond shape.

"Did I upset you," she asked, regaining Sugawara's attention, "or is it the match?"

"Neither," Sugawara defended. "I—I just, I don't know."

"… I don't understand then."

A chill swept over Sugawara, never realizing that she had failed to close the door behind her. With an almost black backdrop, the skin of Apollonia's neck was absolutely luminous. And all over again Sugawara felt himself facing an almost incomprehensible adoration for something so meaningless. For falsities and fantasies. But now that he was aware of it, Sugawara just felt uncomfortable, as if he wanted to hide within his own skin.

"You're so bright, you could be your own lantern," Sugawara forced a laugh. "People would kill for that kind of look here."

Apollonia gave no inclination towards his cynicism, and turned over her tattooed forearm, rotating it so that the feather swiveled in and out of sight. She didn't need to say it for the question to be asked. _'Why is my skin color so revered?'_

"You know, you see it in uh, songs and poetry all the time." Sugawara stammered before tipping his head back to put on his most decadent tone. "'Ethereal, and as pale as milk, with skin like moonlight.' It just sounds nice."

Apollonia wasn't moved . "You speak of something simple, as if it were beautiful." She slid the door closed without taking her eyes off him. "Moonlight is plain. It is not even the moon's own light, but the light of the sun. So, it's misleading."

It was the sort of dishonesty that Sugawara knew Apollonia hated—a sort of poetic injustice that apparently only she understood. _A rock could not be beautiful_, was Apollonia's premise_, especially when it is dressed with the sun's own clothing. Because it is a lie._ _The moon is only beautiful because the sun decided that it was so._

Apollonia watched her own words process in Sugawara's head, as if reading them again for herself. Sugawara hated that he both loved and despised the shape of her eye, and how they housed the most peculiar chromatics.

She shrugged. "I guess I do not see what you see."

"But, you're so pretty," Sugawara blurted out. His hands flew to his mouth but did little to ward off the onslaught of blood rushing to his cheeks. It was frustrating that Apollonia could look so cool and unflustered while he was as a red as a boiling lobster. He had all but confessed to her, and yet she looked ready to toss him into the streets: face unflinching and posture unnervingly relaxed.

"I don't think you're the one who gets to decide that."

"You're so negative," he huffed, pinning on a belated smile. "It's a compliment. There's no need to be so closed off." He added on a dry chuckle, though it was hardly sincere. Apollonia's mouth twitched, but said nothing. Sugawara knew he struck a nerve, and he knew that he should have ended the confrontation right then and there.

But, he found that he couldn't stop.

"I mean, you didn't even tell us that you live alone."

Apollonia's brow darkened, unable to see the relevance. Sugawara was hardly passive aggressive, only using it when it suited him, usually against the underclassmen, but rarely to her.

"I thought it was clear that I lived alone."

Sugawara had an impressive amount of compassion, and a reasonable threshold of patience before he truly felt tried. But it just made him so unrealistically angry, because he cares and she doesn't. She's complacent, and the blunt personality he thought he had grown to admire suddenly made him feel disenchanted. He's so torn by feeling sorry for her and wanting to help her that he is left with an unhealthy compound of emotions he doesn't know how to manage.

"You didn't even think about reaching out to any of us?"

He knew he was being selfish. Apollonia had a naivety about her, and couldn't place why Sugawara was feeling this way. Because she was confused, she didn't know what she had done wrong; but she wanted to appease Sugawara even though it was precisely that attitude that frustrated him in the first place.

"You didn't ask," she returned tentatively, and it took all of Sugawara's control to save face, to think, 'That's just Apollonia. That just how she was raised. That must be her peoples' way.'

This was by far the most vocal they had been with one another, and it was clear that the rose-tinted glasses had long lost their hue. Apollonia had started to wring her hands so tight they turned red, because she was absolutely terrified of him just walking away right then and there. But Apollonia's thoughts rarely showed on her face, and Sugawara failed to take in how her body literally trembled. Her bemusement took the form of stupidity, her contemplation taking the form of irritation. And Sugawara could not have been more blinded by his own emotion.

"I'm sorry," he huffed. When Apollonia saw the look in his eyes, she saw a Sugawara the likes that only Daichi and Asahi had ever seen. Someone so serious, and frustrated. Far from the happy-go-lucky boy she was bred to know. It was a side he thought he could hide from her, and desperately wished that he had, so that he could be a familiar face when everyone else was a stranger.

"I just care about you," he murmured, "A lot. And not as a charity case because you're a foreigner. We're friends." He didn't need to say anymore, though it was the unspoken confession that cleaved apprehension through Apollonia's chest, her throat and shoulders constricted with the desire to just shrink up and disappear so she wouldn't have to face anymore.

_'At least, I thought we were friends.'_

Something shorted between Apollonia's ears. "I can't talk this for Japanese," she confessed, her speech rushed and broken from her own discombobulation, "So I will say English."

It took a moment for Sugawara to understand, and had little time to recover and react before Apollonia switched gears, the words coming from her mouth so quickly he almost took a step back just to brace himself.

_"The fact that you say these things makes it sound like it is your right to know my feelings all of the time," _she started aggressively, or at least, as aggressively as Apollonia could get. Another chill shot down Sugawara's spine, despite not understanding a single word. He took in her face, her body language, the tone she chose, and he was at a loss that someone could be so vulnerable and yet exude such a dominating presence at the same time. The flat of Apollonia's hand rose towards Sugawara's chest, before gesturing to her own, finger tapping her sternum.

_"My feelings are mine, and that means that I do not need to share them with you if I don't feel comfortable. I don't move at the same pace you do." _

There came a sudden stillness, as if Apollonia had forgotten the rest of what she wanted to say. But they sat on the surface of her skin: in cold sweat, prickling gooseflesh, the fear and the risk of her existence and their friendship being rejected. Her stomach flipped while Sugawara's twisted into violent little coils. He hated having a dishonest relationship with her; but he came to realize that uprooting it felt even worse.

Apollonia took a stuttered breath, and Sugawara looked up to find a stranger. Odd and unbecoming, uncharacteristically human. No longer did she glow like any moon or god, or stand tall with unflappable composure, or even look him confidently in the eye as the Apollonia he had fabricated in his mind would have done. This Apollonia was a nervous wreck sporting eye bags and protruding collarbones and the skin of dry rag paper. She was pulled so tight with words still unspoken it was a wonder she didn't tear. She took another breath, and it killed Sugawara to see her cringe as if he had struck her with his own hand.

_"And you telling me that you care is very intimidating, because there might be a time where you don't care anymore."_

The expression Apollonia wore went from one of desperation to one of concentration, portrayed by furrowed brows and eyes that existed in a spectrum of their own. All her tongues were tangled together in an unintelligible mess, and it was a battle in itself just to find the words she wanted to say without fear of misstep. Somewhere in the black, she found a few scattered words still foreign in her own ears, odd and heavy in her own hands, slow as they slipped out of her mouth.

"I care always. You are much important to me."

That much, Sugawara understood.

"Oh my God. I'm the _worst_."

Apollonia almost jumped out of her slippers as Sugawara brought both hands up and slapped his face, the sound echoing all the way down the hall. He covered his eyes muttering, _'Oh my God, I am so sorry,_' under his breath until Apollonia paled with realization that she just might have broken him.

Her eyes flitted from side to side, and when she looked back she could see the aftereffects of their conversation fully sinking into him and suck the color out of his face until he was nearly as pale as she was. And that was enough to put Apollonia in a panic. Because everyone who stood in Sugawara's light was changed in some way or another, just by presence alone. Because in his cupped hands, stagnant water turned to spring, and he gladly held them out for replenishment. She knew that Sugawara cared deeply for his teammates. He wasn't allowed to lose composure like that.

But he too, was tired.

The hall lights whirred softly above them in a hushing way—as if it would have been troublesome to speak anymore after everything that had already been said. Apollonia's throat was swollen and she could see Sugawara's brow creasing, trying to force a grin for reassurance when they both knew that he was incapable of it. He wanted to cry, and if he did, Apollonia was sure she would follow.

"We ok?"

His voice was a raspy whisper, small and worn but so unbearably clear. She could feel it take her in a chokehold, stealing her breath again and thumping hard against her chest. Sugawara finally looked up to see her radiating unhealthy shades of red and purple.

"Breathe," he said, and let out a hollow chuckle. A small, tinkling, broken sound. A sound that made her joints ache and her lungs sting. She didn't like seeing this vulnerable side of him, because she was afraid of it. Because she was the one that _caused_ it. Everything still felt numb: her body, her voice, her heart. It was so tiring. Painful. Like an open wound. But they had purged all of the toxins and all of the dirt out of their seemingly perfect relationship; a relationship that turned out to be romantic idealizations of two flawed, ordinary people.

Words escaped Apollonia, leaving her nothing but action. She looked down at her hands: at her long, misshapen fingers, the half-healed joints, the dry surface and the scars and unattractive bone color, the evidence of wear and tear well beyond her years. Ugly, she found them so ugly, always frightfully cold. But with these cold, ugly hands she could ball up her cowardice and swallow it like the bitter pill that it was, and for once just _try._

And so, Apollonia curled her hand into a fist before extending it nervously into the open space in between them. For an act so simple, it felt as intimidating as crossing the tops of buildings by wire. Her hands were always restlessly tangled together, shaking with self-consciousness, and now was no exception. Even with the frown on her face, and the tension that ran from her neck to the ends of her toes, she did her best to remain calm even though Sugawara knew she was anything but.

Her index finger met his wrist, and flinched at the physical contact despite instigating it. But, Sugawara didn't mind. He was compelled by the focus in her eyes, and the way she could completely immerse herself in an action as little as touching his hand. He cracked the smallest of grins when he saw her ears turning red, evidence that she was losing confidence in herself.

But Apollonia continued the long journey down his hand with such care, until one finger curled in a meticulous arc around his pinkie. As if he were made of flower petals that she feared might be crushed or blown away. She wasn't trying to make him stay, but she didn't want him to leave. For someone who held onto her pride with the strongest conviction, the last thing she wanted was for him to leave, and she showed it so gently.

The trembling still prevalent in Apollonia's grip looked as if she were ringing his fingertips like little, soundless bells. It was warm and touching, but strange. Something slithered past Sugawara's ribs and behind his chest and dove deep within him, and inched that familiar smile back onto his face. The sheer loyalty that she exuded was almost intoxicating.

He felt relief, and it was warm as if he were basking in front of a fireplace's hearth with tea brewing on the stovetop. In those long, bony fingers of hers that shook with fear and sickliness, Sugawara swore he could feel them pulsing with life like little branches of chamomile tickling his skin. Touch was foreign to her, and Sugawara knew that she must have been uncomfortable, judging by how far she stood back, and how her palm was already starting to sweat. But Apollonia stood steady.

Sugawara took her hand fully in his, and found himself one step closer to the Apollonia he'd gladly come to know in a pair of tired, pleading eyes. And he made it clear that he wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

_Author's Note: _

_Um. Hi. Sorry, with school I've been super busy, so this has been sitting in my drafts for the longest time. (I'm actually posting this in between classes so...) _

_I'll likely revise it over the weekend since this is the unedited version but regardless, here it is. I'm doing digital art commissions right now (hit me up if you're interested!), along with hopefully opening a redbubble or society6 to generate little extra money for next semester. I'm taking on about 20+ hours so there might me another big gap between the next chapter, I apologize. _

_ALSO sorry to anyone that I've talked to about this chapter who thought it would be happy! It's kind of happy at the end! I guess? I dunno, I wanted this to be said in this portion of the storyline since Suga and Apple's relationship has certain dynamics that are both good and bad and I really wanted to emphasize that the pedestal they put each other on is actually really unhealthy. _

_Anyway, thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following!_


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